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CIVILIZATION    IN    MIDDLE    AGES 


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THE  LOUIS  CLARK  VANUXEM  FOUNDATION 
LECTURES  FOR  1920 


THE  LOUIS  CLARK  VANUXEM  FOUNDATION 
OF  PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY 

was  established  in  1912  with  a  bequest  of  $25,000  under  the  will 
of  Louis  Clark  Vanuxem,  of  the  Class  of  1879.  By  direction 
of  the  executors  of  Mr.  Vanuxem's  estate,  the  income  of  the 
Foundation  is  to  be  used  for  a  series  of  public  lectures  delivered 
in  Princeton  annually,  at  least  one  half  of  which  shall  be  on 
subjects  of  current  scientific  interest.  The  lectures  are  to  be 
published  and  distributed  among  schools  and  libraries  generally. 

The  following  lectures  have  been  published: 

The  Theory  of  Permutable  Functions,  by  Vito  Volterra. 

Lectures  delivered  in  connection  with  the  dedication  of  the 
Graduate  College  of  Princeton  University,  by  Emile  Boutroux, 
Alois  Riehl,  A.  D.  Godley,  and  Arthur  Shipley. 

Romance,  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

A  Critique  of  the  Theory  of  Evolution,  by  Thomas  Hunt  Mor- 
gan. 

Platonism,  by  Paul  Elmer  More. 

Human  Efficiency  and  Levels  of  Intelligence,  by  Henry  Her- 
bert Goddard. 

The  Defective  Delinquent  and   Insane,  by  Henry  A.  Cotton. 


Louis  Clark  Vanuxem  Foundation 

PHILOSOPHY  AND  CIVILIZATION 
IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


BY 

MAURICE  DeWULF 

Pro/etsor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Louvain  and  in 

Harvard  University  :  Member  of  the  Academies 

of  Brussels  and  of  Madrid 


PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

PRINCETON 

LONDON:  HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

1922 


vU  1 5  i 


Copyright,  1922 
Princeton  University  Press 

Published  1922 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


R 


^  PREFACE 

i^         The  material  of  these  lectures,  which  I  had  the 
"\^  honor  of  delivering  at  Princeton  University,  on  the 

C^  Vanuxem  Foundation,  was  prepared,  during  the 
War,  at  the  Universities  of  Harvard,  Poitiers,  and 
Toronto.  Certain  portions  of  the  work,  relatively 
few,  have  already  appeared  in  the  form  of  articles, 
viz. :  part  of  Chapter  I  in  the  Revue  de  Metaphys- 
ique  et  de  Morale,  July,  1918;  Chapter  IV,  ii,  in 
the  Philosophical  Review,  July,  1918;  Chapter  V, 
p  iii,  in  the  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  January, 
1919;  Chapter  III,  ii,  and  Chapter  VII,  i-v,  in  the 
Harvard  Theological  Review,  October,  1918. 
These  now  take  their  place  as  integral  parts  of 
what  may  be  regarded  as  a  supplement  to  my  His- 
\J  tory  of  Mediaeval  Philosophy, 
!^       The  purpose  of  the  study  as  here  presented  is  to 

■  approach  the  Middle  Ages  from  a  new  point  of 
view,  by  showing  how  the  thought  of  the  period, 
metaphysics  included,  is  intimately  connected  with 
the  whole  round  of  Western  civilization  to  which  it 
belongs.  My  work  represents  simply  an  attempt 
to  open  the  way ;  it  makes  no  pretense  to  exhaustive 
treatment  of  any  of  the  innumerable  problems  in- 
volved  in  so  vast  a  subject. 

I   desire  to  express  my  cordial  thanks  to   the 


VI  PREFACE 

friends  who  have  aided  me  in  translating  these  lec- 
tures, in  particular  to  Mr.  Daniel  Sargent,  of  Har- 
vard University.  And  it  is  a  special  duty  and 
pleasure  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  Profes- 
sor Horace  C.  Longwell,  of  Princeton  University, 
who  has  offered  many  valuable  suggestions  while 
assisting  in  the  revision  of  the  manuscript  and  in 
the  task  of  seeing  the  work  through  the  press. 

Harvard  University 
January,  1922 


ANALYTICAL  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Pbeface 

CHAPTER  ONE 

Introduction 

i.  Relational  aspects  of  phUosophy  in  the  Middle  Ages.  ii. 
Methods,  iii.  The  importance  of  the  twelfth  century  and 
of  the  thirteenth  century  in  mediaeval  civilization,  iv.  Sur- 
vey of  these  centuries. 

CHAPTER  TWO 

SuEVEY  OP  Civilization  in  the  Twelfth  Century 
i.  Feudal  Europe,     ii.   Catholic  influences:    Cluny,  Citeaux, 
the   bishops,  the   Pope.     iii.   A   new   spirit:   the   value    and 
dignity  of  the  individual  man.    iv.  New  forms  of  art.    v.  The 
twelfth  century  one  of  French  influences. 

CHAPTER  THREE 
The  Civilization  as  Reflected  in  Philosophy 

i.  Location  of  philosophical  schools;  invasion  of  French 
schools  by  foreigners,  ii.  Delimitation  of  the  several  sci- 
ences ;  philosophy  distinct  from  the  seven  liberal  arts  and  ^ 
from  theology,  iii.  Harmony  of  the  feudal  sense  of  personal 
worth  with  the  philosophical  doctrine  that  the  individual 
alone  exists,  iv.  The  feudal  civilization  and  the  anti-realistic 
solution  of  the  problem  of  universals. 

CHAPTER  FOUR 

The  Great  Awakening  of  Philosophy  in  the  Thir- 
teenth Century 
i.  The  causes:  The  acquired  momentum,  ii.  The  rise  of  the 
Universities  (Paris  and  Oxford),  iii.  The  establishment  of 
the  mendicant  orders  (Dominicans  and  Franciscans),  iv. 
The  acquaintance  with  new  philosophical  works;  translations. 
V.  General  result:  among  the  numerous  systems  the  schol- 
astic philosophy  issues  as  dominant,  vi.  The  comprehensive 
classification  of  knowledge. 

vii 


VIU  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FIVE 

Unifying  and  Cosmopolitan  Tendencies 

i.  Need  of  universality;  the  "law  of  parsimony."  ii.  Excess 
resulting  from  the  felt  need  of  simplifying  without  limit; 
the  geocentric  system  and  the  anthropocentric  conception, 
iii.  The  society  of  mankind  {"universitas  humana")  in  its 
theoretical  and  practical  forms,  iv.  Cosmopolitan  tenden- 
cies. 

CHAPTER  SIX 

Optimism  and  Impersonality 

i.  Optimism  in  philosophy,  in  art,  in  religion,  ii.  Imperson- 
ality, iii.  History  of  philosophy  and  literary  attribution. 
iv.  Perenniality. 

CHAPTER  SEVEN 

Scholastic  Philosophy  and  the  Religious  Spirit 
i.  Common  definition  of  scholastic  philosophy  as  a  religious 
philosophy,  ii.  Reflective  analysis  of  the  distinction  between 
philosophy  and  theology,  iii.  The  religious  spirit  of  the 
epoch,  iv.  Connections  of  philosophy  with  religion  not  af- 
fecting the  integrity  of  the  former,  v.  Subordination  of  phi- 
losophy to  Catholic  theology  in  the  light  of  this  analysis,  vi. 
Solution  and  adjustment  of  the  problem,  vii.  Influences  of 
philosophy  in  other  fields.     Conclusion. 

CHAPTER  EIGHT 

Intellectualism 

i.  Intellectualism  in  ideology,  ii.  In  epistemology.  iii.  In 
Psychology  (free  volition),  iv.  More  generally  (psychology, 
logic,  metaphysics,  ethics,  aesthetics),  v.  In  other  forms  of 
culture. 

CHAPTER  NINE 

A  Pluralistic  Conception  of  the  World 

i.  What  metaphysics  is.  ii.  Static  aspects  of  reality,  iii. 
Dynamic  aspects;  the  central  doctrine  of  act  and  potency, 
iv.  Application  to  substance  and  accident;  to  matter  and 
form.  v.  The  problem  of  individuation,  vi.  Human  per- 
sonality,    vii.  God:  as  pure  existence. 


CONTENTS  IX 

CHAPTER  TEN 

Individualism  and  Social  Philosophy 

i.  Social  theory  the  last  addition  to  scholastic  philosophy, 
ii.  Fundamental  principle:  the  group  exists  for  its  mem- 
bers, and  not  conversely,  iii.  Ethical  foundation  of  this 
principle,  iv.  The  idea  of  the  group  in  the  teaching  of  can- 
,onists  and  jurists,  v.  Metaphysical  basis:  the  group  not  an 
entity  outside  of  its  members,  vi.  Comparison  of  the  group 
with  the  human  body.     vii.  Conclusion. 

CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

The  Theory  of  the  State 

1.  Sovereignty  from  God.  ii.  It  is  a  function;  morality  of 
governors  not  different  from  that  of  the  governed;  what 
the  function  implies,  iii.  Sovereignty  resides  in  the  people 
who  delegate  it.  iv.  The  best  form  of  government  according 
to  the  philosophy  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  v.  Making  of  laws 
the  essential  attribute  of  sovereignty:  natural  law  and  hu- 
man law.  vi.  This  form  of  government  compared  with  the 
European  states  of  the  thirteenth  century;  with  the  modern 
nationalities;  with  the  theories  of  preceding  centuries. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 
The  Conception  of  Human  Progress 

i.  The  constant  and  the  permanent,  ii.  Progress  in  science, 
in  morals,  in  social  and  political  justice,  in  civilization. 

CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

Philosophy  and  National  Temperament  in  the  Thir- 
teenth Century 

i.  Scholastic  philosophy  reflected  in  the  temperament  of  the 
peoples  who  created  it.  ii.  Three  main  doctrines;  the  value 
of  the  individual;  intellectualism ;  moderation,  iii.  Schol- 
astic philosophy  the  product  of  Neo-Latin  and  Anglo-Celtic 
minds;  Germanic  contribution  virtually  negligible,  iv.  Latin 
Averroism  in  the  thirteenth  century,  v.  The  lure  of  Neo- 
Platonism  to  the  German,  vi.  The  chief  doctrines  opposed 
to  the  scholastic  tendencies:  lack  of  clearness;  inclination  to 
pantheism;  deductive  method  d  outrance;  absence  of  moder- 
ation. 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

Epilogue 

i.  Influence  of  thirteenth  century  philosophical  systems  on 
later  thought  in  the  West.  ii.  Pedagogical  value  of  scholasti- 
cism for  the  history  of  modern  philosophy. 

Selected  Bibliography 
Index  of  Names 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  CIVILIZATION 
IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


CHAPTER  ONE 


INTRODUCTION 


i.  Relational  aspects  of  philosophy  in  the  Middle  Ages.  ii. 
Methods,  iii.  The  importance  of  the  twelfth  century  and  of 
the  thirteenth  century  in  mediaeval  civilization,  iv.  Survey 
of  these  centuries. 


The  study  of  mediaeval  philosophy  has  under- 
gone considerable  change  in  recent  years,  and  the 
developments  in  this  field  of  research  have  been  im- 
portant. On  all  sides  the  soil  has  been  turned,  and 
just  as  in  archaeological  excavation,  as  at  Pompei 
or  at  Timgad,  here  too  discoveries  unexpectedly 
rich  are  rewarding  our  search.  For  such  men  as 
John  Scotus  Eriugena,  Anselm  of  Canterbury, 
Abaelard,  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  John  of  Salisbury, 
Alexander  of  Hales,  Bonaventure,  Albert  the 
Great,  Thomas  Aquinas,  Duns  Scotus,  Siger  of 
Brabant,  Thierry  of  Freiburg,  Roger  Bacon,  Wil- 
liam of  Occam, — these  are  truly  thinkers  of  the 
first  order,  and  their  labours  are  worthy  of  the 
notable  studies  now  increasingly  made  of  them. 

1 


2  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

There  is,  further,  a  host  of  other  philosophers  whose 
thought  has  been  unveiled,  and  whose  significance 
will  become  the  more  clear  as  historical  research 
progresses. 

The  study  of  mediaeval  philosophy,  however,  has 
heretofore  contented  itself  chiefly  with  establishing 
actual  doctrines,  and  with  indicating  their  develop- 
ment or  the  connection  between  one  philosopher 
and  another,  while  little  attention  has  been  given 
to  the  historical  setting  of  these  doctrines  in  the 
mediaeval  civilization  itself.  But  in  the  throbbing 
vitality  of  a  civilization  there  is  an  interdependence 
of  the  numerous  and  complex  elements  constituting 
it;  such,  for  example,  are  the  economic  well-being, 
the  family  and  social  institutions,  the  political  and 
juridical  systems,  the  moral  and  religious  and  aes- 
thetic aspirations,  the  scientific  and  philosophical 
conceptions,  the  feeling  for  progress  in  human  de- 
velopment. The  interdependence  of  these  various 
momenta  is  perhaps  more  readily  apparent  in  the 
realms  of  economics  and  politics  and  art,  but  it  is  to 
be  found  also  in  the  operation  of  the  intellectual 
and  moral  factors. 

It  might  seem  at  first  sight  that  philosophy  would 
enjoy  a  certain  immunity  from  the  vicissitudes  of 
temporal  change,  because  of  the  problems  with 
which  it  deals;  but  closer  view  reveals  that  it  too 
is  caught  inevitably  within  the  meshes  of  the  tem- 
poral net.  For  the  work  of  Plato  or  of  Aristotle, 
this  is  admitted  as  a  commonplace  by  the  historians 
of  philosophy;  the  thought  of  these  philosophers 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  8 

reflects  the  conditions  of  the  Athenian  society  of 
their  day.  Similarly,  no  one  pretends  to  arrive  at 
a  proper  understanding  of  such  thinkers  as  Francis 
Bacon  and  Hobbes  except  in  the  light  of  the  politi- 
cal and  economic  and  the  broadly  cultural  condi- 
tions of  their  age.  Just  so  in  our  study  of 
mediaeval  philosophy,  we  may  not  properly  con- 
sider Anselm,  or  Thomas  Aquinas,  or  William 
of  Occam  as  men  whose  thoughts  float  free  without 
anchorage.  They  too  are  the  sons  of  their  age. 
Nay  more,  there  is  a  certain  philosophical  atmo- 
sphere which  is  created  by  the  collective  thought 
of  numerous  thinkers;  and  this  is  subject  to  influ- 
ences issuing  from  the  spirit  of  the  age,  in  its  eco- 
nomic, political,  social,  moral,  religious  and  artistic 
aspects.  Moreover,  while  philosophical  thought 
is  thus  affected  from  without,  it  also  exerts  its  own 
influence  in  turn  upon  the  general  culture  with 
which  it  is  organically  connected. 

For  the  thought  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  time  has 
come  when  we  must  take  account  of  this  mutual 
dependence.  Indeed  we  may  even  regard  with  ad- 
vantage the  example  of  natural  history,  whose  mu- 
seums no  longer  exhibit  their  specimens  as  so  many 
lifeless  objects  in  a  bare  cage, — on  the  contrary, 
they  are  represented  as  if  they  were  still  alive  in 
their  native  jungle. 

The  point  of  view,  therefore,  which  we  choose 
for  our  treatment  in  these  lectures,  is  that  of  the 
relational  aspects  in  mediaeval  philosophy — a  study 
which  relates  the  philosophy  to  the  other  factors  in 


4  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVH^IZATION 

that  civilization  taken  as  an  organic  whole.  We 
shall  be  concerned  therefore  less  with  isolated  per- 
sonalities than  with  the  general  philosophical  mind 
of  the  age,  its  way  of  conceiving  life  and  reality. 

II 

Before  indicating  the  chronological  limits  and  the 
general  outline  of  our  study,  it  is  of  paramount 
importance  to  examine  a  question  of  method  which 
confronts  us  at  the  outset,  the  right  solution  of 
which  is  of  great  consequence: — Just  how  may  we 
understand  the  mediaeval  civilization  in  order  to 
judge  it  aright? 

To  understand  the  mediaeval  civilization, — to 
penetrate  into  its  very  spirit — we  must  first  of  all 
avoid  forcing  parallels  with  the  mentality  and  cus- 
toms of  our  own  age.  Many  a  study  has  been 
marred  because  its  author  was  unable  to  resist  this 
temptation.  Mediaeval  civilization  is  not  the  same 
as  that  of  our  own  age.  Its  factors  have  a  differ- 
ent meaning;  they  were  made  for  men  of  a  differ- 
ent age.  Charlemagne's  famous  sword  can  now  be 
wielded  only  with  great  difficulty,  and  the  heavy 
armor  of  the  iron-mailed  knights  no  longer  suits 
the  needs  of  our  twentieth  century  soldiers.  Nor  is 
it  otherwise  with  the  mediaeval  civilization  consid- 
ered as  a  whole;  it  is  not  fitted  to  our  own  con- 
ditions. 

Further,  in  order  to  understand  the  Middle  Ages, 
we  must  think  directly  after  their  manner  of  think- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  O 

ing.  When  a  beginner  commences  the  study  of  a 
foreign  language,  he  is  invariably  advised  to  think 
directly  in  that  language,  instead  of  painfully  trans- 
lating words  and  phrases  from  his  native  tongue. 
Just  so  a  right  study  of  the  civilization  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  must  take  it  in  and  for  itself,  in  its  in- 
ternal elements  and  structure;  it  must  be  under- 
stood from  within.  To  this  end  each  factor  must 
be  separately  considered  and  defined, — in  itself 
and  also  with  due  regard  to  the  particular  signifi- 
cance attaching  to  it  at  any  given  epoch. 

Furthermore,  the  several  factors  that  make  up 
a  civilization  should  be  collectively  examined  and 
viewed  as  a  coherent  whole ;  for  only  so  is  its  unique 
harmony  revealed.  Such  a  harmony  varies  from 
one  period  to  another.  Therefore,  we  should  vio- 
late the  most  elementary  principles  of  historical 
criticism,  if  we  were  to  predicate  of  the  fifteenth 
century  truths  which  apply  only  to  the  twelfth  and 
the  thirteenth  centuries;  or  to  attribute  to  forma- 
tive periods  such  as  the  tenth  and  the  eleventh  cen- 
turies what  is  evidenced  only  in  the  central  period 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

If  the  above  principles  of  internal  criticism  are 
necessary  in  discerning  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  civi- 
lization, they  are  no  less  indispensable  for  arriving 
at  a  just  estimate  of  that  spirit.  While  this  civili- 
zation is  different  from  our  own,  it  is  not  to  be 
judged  as  either  worse  or  better.  To  determine  its 
worth  we  must  not  compare  its  institutions  vrith 


6  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

those  of  to-day.  It  is  positively  distressing  to  see 
historians,  under  the  spell  of  special  sympathies, 
proclaim  the  thirteenth  century  the  best  of  all  cen- 
turies of  human  history  and  prefer  its  institutions 
to  our  own.  Such  laudatores  temporis  acti  really 
injure  the  cause  which  they  intend  to  serve.  But  it 
is  equally  distressing  to  see  others,  more  numerous, 
decry  thirteenth  century  civilization,  and  strenu- 
ously declaim  against  the  imprudent  dreamer  who 
would  carry  certain  of  its  ideas  and  customs  into 
our  modern  world.  To  go  back  to  the  Middle  Ages 
is  out  of  the  question;  retrogression  is  impossible, 
for  the  past  will  ever  be  the  past.  To  prefer  to  our 
railways,  for  instance,  the  long  and  perilous 
horseback  rides  of  that  age  is  of  course  absurd; 
but  in  the  same  way,  to  depreciate  the  Middle 
Ages  by  contrasting  them  at  all  with  oiu*  modern 
ways  of  living,  thinking,  or  feeling  seems  to  me 
meaningless. 

This  would  be  tantamount  to  reviving  the  errors 
of  the  Renaissance,  which  was  infatuated  with  its 
own  world  and  disdained  everything  mediaeval.^ 
This  error  has  been  strangely  persistent,  and  it 
merits  examination  because  of  the  lessons  entailed. 
Disdain  for  the  past  begot  ignorance,  ignorance  be- 
got injustice,  injustice  begot  prejudice.  Being  un- 
able or  unwilling  to  go  back  to  thirteenth  century 

iThe  very  name  ''Middle  Ages"  was  disparaging;  it  implied  an  in- 
termediary stage,  jiarenthetical,  with  no  value  saving  that  of  con- 
nection between  antiquity  and  modern  times. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  7 

documents,  the  critics  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  judged  the  whole  period  by  reference  to 
late  and  decadent  scholasticism ;  the  golden  age  was 
thus  involved  in  the  condemnation  deserved  only  by 
the  age  of  decadence.  The  historians  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  and  of  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  inherited  the  estimate  thus  erron- 
eously made  by  the  men  of  the  Renaissance  and  the 
Reformation;  they  accepted  it  uncritically  and 
passed  on  the  error  unchanged.  That,  in  brief,  is 
the  story  of  the  perpetuation  of  the  reproach  at- 
taching to  the  Middle  Ages.^ 

A  singular  instance  of  the  loss  involved  in  thus 
failing  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  the  past  is  the 
contempt  which  was  professed  for  the  "Gothic" 
architecture, — both  because  of  its  mediaeval  origin 
and  because  the  term  came  to  be  synonymous  with 
"barbaric."  One  can  understand,  to  be  sure,  how 
through  ignorance  or  routine  or  education  cul- 
tured minds  in  the  Renaissance  period  might  refuse 
to  open  dusty  manuscripts  and  bulky  folios;  their 
preference  for  humanistic  works, — such  as  those  of 
Vives  or  of  Agricola  or  of  Nizolius  or  of  others  even 
more  superficial — to  the  dry  subtleties  of  the  con- 
temporary "terminists"  is  perfectly  intelligible. 
But  it  is  inconceivable  to  us  how  the  great  cathe- 
drals of  Paris,  Rheims,  Amiens,  Chartres,  Cologne, 
and  Strasbourg  failed  to  find  favor  with  men  of 
cultivated  taste,  and  how  they  could  have  been  in- 

2  Cf.  my  Histoire  de  la  Philosophie  Medievale,  Louvain,  1912,  p. 
106. 


8  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

eluded  in  the  general  condemnation  of  things  me- 
diaeval. For,  those  wonders  in  stone  were  not  hid- 
den in  the  recesses  of  library  cases.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  raised  high  above  the  cities  their  spires, 
their  arches,  their  silhouettes, — and,  indeed,  as  an 
heroic  protest  against  the  injustice  of  men.  That 
a  revival  of  Greek  architecture  might  have  aroused 
enthusiasm  is  easily  intelligible ;  but  it  is  hard  to  un- 
derstand how  Montesquieu,  Fenelon,  Goethe,  who 
passed  daily  such  Gothic  cathedrals,  could  turn 
away  from  them  and  speak  of  them  disparagingly 
and  even  refuse  to  cross  their  thresholds, — being,  as 
they  said,  the  remnants  of  a  decadent  age.  Goethe's 
confession  on  this  point  is  significant  indeed.  He 
tells  us  how  at  the  beginning  of  his  stay  at  Stras- 
bourg, he  was  wont  to  pass  the  cathedral  with  in- 
difference ;  but  one  day  he  entered,  and  as  he  did  so 
his  eyes  were  fascinated  with  a  beauty  which  he 
had  not  before  seen;  thereafter,  not  only  did  he 
give  up  his  prejudices  against  Gothic  art,  but  he  be- 
came enamoured  of  the  beautiful  cathedral  that 
raises  its  red-brown  spires  above  the  plains  of 
Alsace.  "Educated  among  the  detractors  of  Gothic 
architecture,"  he  writes,  "I  nourished  my  antipathy 
against  these  overloaded,  complicated  ornaments, 
which  gave  the  effect  of  gloomy  religion  by  their 
very  oddity.  .  .  .  But  here  I  seemed  suddenly  to 
see  a  new  revelation;  what  had  been  objectionable 
appeared  admirable,  and  the  reverse, — the  percep- 


IN   THE  MIDDLE  AGES  9 

tion  of  beauty  in  all  its  attractiveness,  was  im- 
pressed on  my  soul."^ 

The  discredit  in  which  mediaeval  art  was  held 
has  now  definitely  yielded  to  a  more  just  estimate. 
Romanesque  and  Gothic  architecture  are  now  uni- 
versally acknowledged  to  be  things  of  beauty  in 
and  for  themselves;  certainly,  in  any  case,  without 
reference  to  the  architecture  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury. Again,  we  acknowledge  the  merit  of  Giotto's 
frescoes,  of  the  translucent  stained  glass  of  Char- 
tres,  without  estimating  them  by  modern  standards 
of  painting. 

Similarly,  no  one  today  would  commit  himself 
to  the  prejudice,  also  not  so  old,  that  before  Rous- 
seau nature  was  not  understood  and  that  the  thir- 
teenth century  was  ignorant  of  its  beauty.  All  of 
those  who  are  familiar  with  the  sculpture  of  the 
cathedrals  and  with  illuminated  manuscripts,  or 
who  have  read  the  Divine  Comedy  of  Dante  and 
the  poems  of  St.  Francis,  know  how  unjust  that  re- 
proach is;  and  they  never  compare  the  thirteenth 
century  interpretation  of  nature  with  that  of  our 
modern  writers. 

This  marked  contrast,  between  our  appreciation 
of  mediaeval  art  and  the  condemnation  of  it  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  indicates  the 
canons  to  which  we  should  adhere  in  reaching  a  just 
judgment  of  the  past.  Plainly,  in  order  to  under- 
stand the  value  of  things  mediaeval,  we  must  have 

8  Goethe,  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,  Buch  IX,  Teil  2. 


10  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

recourse  to  a  standard  other  than  that  set  by  the 
conditions  of  our  own  time.    For,  what  is  true  of 
art  is  also  true  of  all  other  factors  in  a  civilization. 
If,  then,  we  are  to  estimate  aright  the  civilization 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  we  must  refer  it  to  a 
fixed  norm:  the  dignity  and  the  worth  of  human 
nature.    This  will  be  readily  granted  by  all  who  be- 
lieve that  human  nature  remains  essentially  the 
same,  in  spite  of  historical  changes;  and  of  course 
this  was  the  common  mediaeval  doctrine.*    By  this 
standard  a  civilization  stands  high  when  it  achieves 
its  own  intense  and  coordinated  expression  of  the 
essential  aspirations  of  the  individual  and  the  col- 
lective life ;  when  it  realizes,  in  addition,  an  adequate 
degree  of  material  welfare;  when  it  rests  also  on  a 
rational  organization  of  the  family,  the  state,  and 
other  groups;  when  it  allows,  further,  for  full  de- 
velopment   in    philosophy,    science    and    art;    and 
when  its  morality  and  its  religion  foster  their  ideals 
on  a  basis  of  noble  sentiments  and  refined  emotions. 
In  this  sense  the  civilization  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury must  be  counted  among  those  that  have  suc- 
ceeded in  attaining  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection ; 
for,  certain  unique  functions  and  aspirations  of 
humanity  are  therein  revealed,  and  indeed  in  rare 
and  striking  form.     Hence  it  furnishes  us  with 
documents  of  the  first  importance  for  our  under- 
standing of  humanity;  and  for  this  reason  it  may 
instruct  our  present  generation  as  it  surely  can  all 

♦  See  ch.  XII,  i. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  11 

those  to  come.  Homo  sum,  nil  humani  a  me  alie- 
num  puto. 

From  this  point  of  view,  and  from  this  alone, 
may  we  properly  call  good  or  bad — let  us  not  say 
better  or  worse — certain  elements  in  our  heritage 
from  the  Middle  Ages.  The  praise  or  the  blame 
which  may  be  given  to  things  mediaeval  in  these 
lectures  will  not  proceed  from  a  comparison  of  me- 
diaeval conditions  with  those  of  our  own  age,  but 
rather  by  reference  to  their  harmony,  or  lack  of  it., 
with  the  essential  nobility  of  human  nature.  We 
may  speak  then  of  things  good  and  beautiful 
achieved  by  the  Middle  Ages;  for  they  are  human 
realities,  even  though  they  are  enveloped  within  the 
historical  past.  The  Fioretti  of  St.  Francis,  the 
Divine  Comedy  of  Dante,  the  cathedrals,  the  feudal 
virtues,  these  are  all  sparks  of  the  human  soul, 
scintillae  animae,  whose  lustre  cannot  be  obscured; 
they  have  their  message  for  all  of  humanity.  And 
if  certain  doctrines  in  scholastic  philosophy  have 
maintained  their  value,  as  have  certain  doctrines  of 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Augustine,  Descartes,  Leibnitz, 
and  others,  this  must  be  because  they  have  a  deeply 
human  meaning  which  remains  everlastingly  true. 

Within  these  limits  it  would  be  neither  proper 
nor  possible  to  abstain  from  praise  and  criticism. 
For,  the  historian  is  no  mere  registering  machine, 
unmoved  by  love  and  hatred.  On  the  contrary,  he 
cannot  be  indifferent  to  good  and  evil,  to  progress 
and  decline,  to  lofty  aspirations  and  social  evils; 


12  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

therefore,  he  cannot  refrain  from  approving  and 
condemning. 

Ill 

This  method  of  historical  reconstruction  and  ap- 
preciation is  especially  necessary  in  studying  the 
twelfth  and  the  thirteenth  centuries, — perhaps 
more  so  than  for  any  other  mediaeval  period.  To 
this  period,  as  the  very  heart  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
we  shall  limit  our  study,  and  for  certain  reasons 
which  we  may  now  consider. 

First  of  all,  this  is  the  period  when  mediaeval 
civilization  assumes  definite  form,  with  outlines  and 
features  that  characterize  a  unique  age  in  the  life 
of  humanity. 

Before  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  me- 
diaeval temperament  is  not  yet  formed;  it  is  only 
in  process  of  elaboration.  The  new  races,  Celts 
and  Teutons^  (the  Teutons  including  more  espe- 
cially Angles,  Danes,  Saxons,  Francs,  Germans, 
and  Normans)  had  passively  received  something  of 
the  culture  of  the  Graeco-Roman  world,  certain  ele- 
ments of  organization,  juridical  and  political,  and 
some  fragmentary  scientific  and  philosophical  ideas. 
During  the  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh  centuries, 
these  new  races  react  upon  what  they  have  received 
and  subject  everything  to  an  elaboration  of  their 
own.     They  apply  themselves  to  it,  with  their  vir- 

5  The  terms  Teuton  and  Gennan  are  sometimes  employed  in  the 
inverse  sense;  but  I  prefer  the  usage  above  indicated. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  18 

tues  and  their  defects ;  and  the  outcome  begets  the 
new  order  of  things.  Christianity  directs  the  whole 
work, — and  it  is  not  a  hght  task  to  soften  the  rough 
mentahty  of  the  barbarians.  The  work  is  nearly 
completed  at  the  dawn  of  the  twelfth  century,  and 
the  period  of  groping  is  over.  Thus  there  are 
three  factors  in  the  process  of  forming  the  me- 
diaeval civilization:  the  heritage  from  the  ancient 
world,  the  reactive  response  of  the  new  races,  and 
the  directing  guidance  of  Christianity. 

With  the  twelfth  century  the  results  of  this  long 
and  gradual  process  of  formation  begin  to  appear. 
This  is  the  springtime  period.  And  just  as  the 
springtime  of  nature  excludes  no  plant  from  her 
call  to  life,  so  the  springtime  of  civilization  buds 
forth  in  every  branch  of  human  activity;  political, 
economic,  family  and  social  regime,  morals,  reli- 
gion, fine  arts,  sciences,  philosophy, — all  of  those 
sublime  emanations  of  the  human  soul  which  form 
a  civilization,  and  determine  its  progress,  now  re- 
veal their  abounding  vitality  and  burst  forth  in 
bloom.  Of  these  factors,  the  pohtical  organization 
ripens  first,  very  naturally,  while  philosophy  comes 
to  its  maturity  the  last  of  all.  The  former  is,  as  it 
were,  the  body;  the  latter  belongs  to  the  com- 
plex psychic  life.  And  since  civilization  is  essen- 
tially the  expression  of  psychic  forces,  the  real 
mediaeval  man  must  be  sought  for  in  his  religious 
feelings,  his  moral  aspirations,  his  artistic  work, 
his  philosophical  and  scientific  activities. 


14  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

With  the  thirteenth  century  we  reach  definitely 
the  climax  of  the  development, — that  is,  the  period 
of  maturity.  At  this  stage  the  total  complex  of 
the  mediaeval  civilization  reveals  its  striking  and 
compelling  features. 

A  second  reason  exists  for  concentrating  our  at- 
tention upon  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries. 
These  are  also  the  centuries  in  which  the  philo- 
sophical temperament  of  the  Occident  is  definitely 
formed. 

All  historians  agree  in  ascribing  to  the  French 
genius  the  leadership  of  the  world  during  this 
period.  It  was  in  France  that  the  feudal  mind  was 
formed.  A  moral,  artistic,  and  religious  tradition 
began  to  appear  on  the  soil  of  French  provinces. 
Chivalry,  feudalism,  the  Benedictine  organization, 
monastic  and  religious  reforms,  Romanesque  and 
Gothic  art  are  just  so  many  products  born  of  the 
French  temperament ;  and  these  spread  throughout 
the  whole  western  world  by  virtue  of  the  current 
travel  and  trade,  the  Crusades  and  the  migrations 
of  religious  orders.  From  France  the  ideas  of  the 
new  civilization  spread  over  the  neighboring  coun- 
tries, like  sparks  from  a  blazing  fire.  The  twelfth 
and  the  thirteenth  centuries  were  centuries  of 
French  thought ;  and  this  leadership  of  France  was 
retained  until  the  Hundred  Years  War.  Natural- 
ly, therefore,  the  same  leadership  was  maintained 
in  the  field  of  philosophy,  as  we  shall  see. 

Moreover,  the  thirteenth  century  is  the  period 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  15  7 

when  both  the  Neo-Latin  and  the  Anglo-Celtic  /3  d* 
minds  distinguished  themselves  clearly  from  the 
Germanic  type.  If  one  seeks  the  origin  of  the  dif- 
ference in  mentality  fomid  in  the  nations  of  the 
West,  one  is  forced  inevitably  back  to  the  thir- 
teenth century.  This  century  witnessed  the  for- 
mation of  the  great  European  nations,  the  dawn  of 
a  more  definite  conception  of  patria,  the  decisive 
outlining  of  the  ethnical  features  of  the  peoples 
who  were  henceforth  to  fill  history  with  their  al- 
liances and  rivalries.  The  thirteenth  century  is 
characterized  by  unifying  and  cosmopolitan  tenden- 
cies; but,  at  the  same  time,  it  constitutes  a  great 
plateau  whence  are  beginning  to  issue  the  various 
channels  which  will  later  run  as  mighty  rivers  in 
different  and  even  opposite  directions.  Many 
peculiarities  in  the  mediaeval  way  of  conceiving 
individual  and  social  life  and  many  of  their  philo- 
sophical conceptions  of  the  world  have  entered  in- 
to the  modern  views;  and,  indeed,  many  doctrines 
which  are  now  opposed  to  each  other  can  be  traced 
to  their  origin  in  the  thirteenth  century. 

IV 

We  may  now  outline  broadly  the  plan  of  these 
lectures.  From  the  general  point  of  view,  the 
twelfth  century  is  perhaps  of  more  decisive  im- 
portance. But  from  the  philosophical  standpoint 
the  thirteenth  century  is  supreme,  and  therefore  it 
will  demand  more  of  our  time  and  attention.    This 


16  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

difference  is  due  to  the  fact  that  civilization  always 
develops  more  rapidly  than  philosophy,  the  latter 
being  a  tender  fruit  which  thrives  tardily  and  only 
when  the  general  growth  has  been  attained. 

The  twelfth  century  is  a  creative  and  construc- 
tive era,  and  the  development  of  thought  and  of 
life  is  extraordinarily  rapid  in  all  directions.  All 
the  forces  are  in  ebullition,  as  in  a  crucible.  The 
heritage  from  the  Graeco-Roman  world,  the  reac- 
tion of  the  new  races,  the  direction  of  Christianity: 
these  three  factors  in  the  making  of  mediaeval  civi- 
lization are  now  in  process  of  compounding,  and 
the  result  is  a  conception  of  life,  individual  and  so- 
cial, which  is  sui  generis.  A  new  spirit  pervades 
the  policy  of  kings.  The  particularism  of  the  local 
lords  comes  into  diverse  conflict  with  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  central  power,  whilst  the  rural  classes 
welcome  the  dawn  of  liberty  and  the  townsfolk 
awake  to  the  possibilities  of  vast  commercial  enter- 
prises. Men  are  seeking  governmental  forms  in 
which  all  classes  of  society  can  find  their  place  and 
play  their  part.  The  Crusades,  once  begun,  recur 
at  brief  intervals  and  bring  the  various  peoples  to- 
gether and  direct  their  attention  to  the  Orient;  at 
the  same  time  they  foster  in  a  manner  hitherto  un- 
paralleled the  ideal  of  a  great  human  brotherhood, 
resting  upon  the  Christian  religion.  The  Church 
pervades  all  circles,  through  her  monks,  her  clerics, 
her  bishops.  The  Papacy,  which  has  been  central 
since  the  days  of  Gregory  VII,  assumes  interna- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  17 

tional  significance  and  gradually  organizes  itself 
into  a  theocratic  government.  The  customs  of 
feudalism  and  of  chivalry  arise,  as  characteristic  of 
the  age.  The  early  mediaeval  man  is  developing; 
he  may  go  to  excess  in  his  virtues  and  his  vices,  but 
beneath  his  rough  exterior  he  cherishes  a  Christian 
ideal,  and  often  at  the  cost  of  his  life.  A  new  form 
of  art  arises  which  finds  its  most  ardent  promoters 
in  Churchmen.  Other  Churchmen  give  themselves 
to  the  cultivation  of  science  and  letters,  and  thus  are 
laid  the  foundations  of  that  imposing  philosophical 
monument,  scholasticism,  which  is  to  guide  and  di- 
rect the  thought  of  centuries.  Thus  philosophy  is 
only  one  of  the  elements  in  this  new  civilization. 
In  reality  it  receives  more  than  it  gives.  Some  of 
the  influences  which  operated  upon  it  from  the  sur- 
rounding environment  we  shall  outline  in  due  time.® 
But  first  we  shall  make  a  rapid  survey  of  French 
mediaeval  society  and  of  the  type  of  mentality 
which  passed  over  from  it  to  the  intellectual  circles 
of  the  West.^  Concluding  the  present  chapter,  let 
us  consider  briefly  the  thirteenth  century. 

In  the  thirteenth  century  mediaeval  civilization 
brings  forth  its  full  fruit.  The  feudal  monarchy 
receives  into  its  organic  being  all  those  social  forces 
which  make  for  national  life.  Material  welfare  in- 
creases and  the  relations  between  nations  grow 
apace.    Art  speeds  on  its  triumphal  way.     Gothic 

6  See  ch.  III. 

7  See  ch.  II. 


18  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

architecture  springs  up  beside  the  Romanesque; 
painting  comes  into  existence;  and  hterature  be- 
gins to  take  wing  in  a  flight  which  issues  in  Human- 
ism. Rehgion  contributes  more  than  ever  to  unity ; 
it  enters  into  all  the  sentiments  and  the  life  of  the 
age.  The  Papacy  reaches  the  apex  of  its  power; 
and,  supreme  over  kings  and  emperors,  it  domi- 
nates every  aspect  of  social  activity.  Everywhere 
a  sort  of  stable  equilibrium  prevails.  Men  are 
proud  of  the  way  in  which  they  have  organized 
human  existence.  Philosophical  ideas  and  systems 
appear  in  abundance,  exhibiting  a  luxuriance  un- 
equalled since  the  Hellenistic  age.^  Among  these 
numerous  systems  scholasticism  is  most  in  harmony 
with  the  age,  and  as  its  completest  expression  be- 
comes the  reigning  philosophy.  Its  roots  are  to  be 
found  everywhere  in  the  civilization  of  the  thir- 
teenth century.  First,  because  it  exhibits  those  re- 
lational aspects  which  unite  it  with  all  the  other 
spheres  of  activity.®  Second,  because  many  of  its 
doctrines  bear  the  stamp  of  characteristically  me- 
diaeval ideas,  both  social  and  moral.^°  Third,  be- 
cause scholasticism  is  above  all,  the  philosophy  of 
those  people  who  are  at  the  head  of  the  cultural 
movement  in  the  thirteenth  century.^^  In  what 
follows  we  shall  endeavour  to  substantiate  these 
statements. 

8  See  ch.  IV. 

9  See  chs.  V-VII. 

10  See  chs.  VIII-XII. 
u  See  ch.  XIII. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

Survey  of  Civilization  in  the  Twelfth 
Century 

i.  Feudal  Europe,  ii.  Catholic  influences:  Cluny,  Citeaux, 
the  bishops,  the  Pope.  iii.  A  new  spirit:  the  value  and  dig- 
nity of  the  individual  man.  iv.  New  forms  of  art.  v.  The 
twelfth  century  one  of  French  influences. 


To  understand  how  the  civihzation  of  the  twelfth 
century  is  reflected  in  its  philosophy,  we  must  view 
in  a  general  way  the  elements  of  that  civilization 
which  are  most  intimately  connected  with  intellec- 
tual life, — namely,  political  institutions,  moral  and 
social  ideals,  standards  of  art,  and  religious  beliefs. 

These  several  elements  operate  in  various  ways 
in  the  different  countries  of  Europe;  but  in  our 
general  survey  we  shall  consider  rather  the  resem- 
blances, without  meaning  thereby  to  deny  or  to  be- 
little the  differences.  Since  it  is  in  France  that  this 
civilization  produces  its  choicest  fruits,  it  is  there 
especially  that  we  must  seek  its  most  original  and 
coherent  forms. 

In  the  political  and  social  orders  feudalism  had 
become  general.     Barons,  dukes,  earls,  and  lords 

19 


20  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

lived  independently  in  their  own  castles  and 
usurped  more  or  less  of  the  sovereign  right.  Not 
only  did  relations  of  personal  loyalty  exist  between 
them,  but  obligations  founded  upon  a  free  contract 
bound  one  man  to  another,  according  to  some  privi- 
lege or  some  land  given  and  received.  The  one,  the 
vassal,  was  bound  to  render  service;  the  other,  the 
lord,  was  equally  bound  to  protect  and  defend. 

In  France,  where  the  new  organization  appears 
in  its  purest  form,  nothing  is  more  complicated 
than  the  scheme  of  feudalistic  relations.  At  the 
head,  theoretically,  but  not  always  practically,  stood 
the  king.  The  greatest  lords  were  vassals  of  other 
lords.  Were  not  the  feudal  relations  of  Henry  II 
of  England  and  Louis  VII  of  France  the  starting 
point  for  all  their  wars  and  quarrels?  For,  the 
first  became  the  vassal  of  the  second  on  the  very  day 
he  married  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine,  whose  duchy  was 
granted  by  the  French  king  to  the  English  mon- 
arch. The  particular  and  local  lords  were  forced  to 
fight  against  the  centralizing  tendencies  of  the 
kings,  and  the  antagonism  of  the  vassals  and  the 
king,  their  suzerain,  was  the  main  feature  of  French 
policy  in  the  twelfth  century.^  Particularism  re- 
mained, but  it  was  on  the  decline,  and  the  following 
century  witnessed  the  triumph  of  the  centralizing 
principle. 

A   similar   development   occurred   in   England. 

lA.   Luchaire,  "Louis  VII,  Philippe  Auguste,   Louis  VIII,"  His- 
toire  de  France,  pub.  par  Lavisse,  1902,  vol.  III. 


IN   THE  MIDDLE  AGES  21 

For,  that  country  was  so  closely  connected  with 
France  that  their  combined  territories  may  be  called 
the  common  soil  of  the  mediaeval  civilization. 
English  society,  as  a  whole,  had  its  origin  in  French 
soil^  at  any  rate,  the  seeds  were  planted  in  1066 
by  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  French  barons. 
Kings  of  French  blood,  who  came  from  Normandy 
and  from  Anjou,  ruled  over  the  British  Isles;  but 
much  of  their  time  was  spent  in  their  French  prov- 
inces. French  was  the  court-language;  they  made 
provision  for  burial  in  the  Norman  abbey  of  Caen 
or  the  Angevine  abbey  of  Fontevrault;  they  drew 
their  counsellors  from  France  and  favoured  the 
establishment  of  French  clergy  and  French  monks 
in  England.  The  English  King  Henry  II,  the 
first  of  the  Plantagenet  dynasty,  was  one  of  the 
most  thorough-going  organizers  of  the  age;  indeed 
one  might  well  take  him  for  a  contemporary  of 
Philip  the  Fair  of  France.^  Is  it  then  surprising 
that  we  find  England  too  being  divided  into  feudal 
domains,  and  the  royal  policy  exhibiting  the  same 
centralizing  tendency? 

But  while  monarchy  and  feudalism  were  so  close- 
ly akin  in  France  and  in  England,  they  presented 
quite  a  different  aspect  in  Germany.  The  reason 
was  that  at  the  very  time  when  the  king's  power 
was  weakening  in  France,  the  Saxon  dynasty  of  the 
Ottos  had  established  in  Germany  an  autocratic 

2  A.    Luchaire,   op.   cit.,  p.   49.     Henry   II,   1133-1189;   Philip    the 
Fair,  1269-1314. 


22  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

regime,  patterned  after  that  of  Charlemagne.  The 
German  kings,  who  had  been  crowned  Emperors 
of  the  West,  held  the  nobles  in  a  sort  of  military 
servitude;  they  appointed  bishops  and  abbots  and 
bound  them  to  military  service.  However,  little  by 
little,  the  principalities  asserted  their  rights;  the 
fast  developing  towns  gained  more  freedom.  We 
shall  see^  how  the  monks  of  Cluny  contributed  to 
this  change.  Thus,  by  a  process  of  decentraliza- 
tion, Germany  gradually  assumed  in  the  twelfth 
century  a  more  feudal  aspect,  while  France  and 
England  were  developing  toward  centralization. 

During  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  the 
destiny  of  Italy  is  intimately  connected  with  that 
of  Germany.  The  reason  for  this  was  that  the  Ger- 
man imperial  ambitions  involved  the  seizure  of 
Italy,  a  great  country  which  was  also  divided  into 
various  principalities.  The  emperors  were  success- 
ful for  a  time;  but  much  opposition  developed. 
Hence  their  long  struggle  against  the  Lombard 
cities,  which  were  true  municipal  republics;  against 
the  Papacy,  which  was  to  triumph  finally;  against 
the  great  southern  realm  of  the  Sicilies,  which  had 
been  founded  by  Norman  knights  and  was  a  centre 
of  French  feudal  ideas,  being  governed  by  French 
princes. 

As  for  Spain,  situated  as  it  was  on  the  confines 
of  the  western  and  the  Arabian  civilizations,  it  pre- 
sents a  unique  aspect.    The  Christian  kingdoms  of 

3  See  ch.  IL  ii. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  23 

Castille,  of  Leon,  of  Navarre,  of  Aragon,  had  un- 
dertaken to  "reconquer"  the  Peninsula  from  the 
Mussulman,  and  they  were  organized  on  French 
feudal  principles.  On  the  other  hand,  the  South 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Infidels,  and  the  in- 
filtration of  Arabian  civilization  was  to  have  its 
part  in  the  philosophical  awakening  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  as  we  shall  see.* 

Hence,  when  we  consider  the  outstanding  fea- 
tures of  the  political  and  social  situation,  feudal 
divisions  are  found  everywhere.  France,  which 
seems  to  be  the  starting  point  for  the  system,  Eng- 
land after  the  Conquest,  some  parts  of  Italy  and  of 
Spain,  and  also  Germany — the  whole  of  western 
Europe,  in  fact,  presents  the  appearance  of  a  check- 
erboard. 

II 

The  Catholic  Church  was  intimately  connected 
with  this  feudal  system,  through  her  bishops,  who 
were  lords  both  temporal  and  spiritual,  and  more 
especially  through  the  abbots  of  her  monasteries. 
The  twelfth  century  is  the  golden  age  of  the  abbeys. 
In  no  period  of  history  has  any  institution  had  a 
closer  contact  with  both  religious  and  social  back- 
ground than  had  the  abbeys  of  Cluny  and  Citeaux. 
These  were  the  two  great  branches  of  the  Benedic- 
tine stem,  the  two  mother-houses  whose  daughters 
were  scattered  throughout  France  and  Europe. 

4  See  ch.  IV,  iv. 


24  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

The  ninth  century  had  witnessed  a  disastrous  re- 
laxation of  rehgious  discipline,  and  it  was  Cluny 
which  first  returned  to  the  faithful  observance  of 
the  rule  of  St.  Benedict.  The  monastery  was 
founded  in  Burgundy  in  910  by  a  feudal  lord,  Duke 
William  of  Aquitaine.  And  just  here  we  meet 
with  a  peculiar  phenomenon,  which  shows  how  the 
religious  spirit  had  become  the  great  moral  force 
of  that  period.  "The  abbeys  built  in  the  ninth  and 
the  tenth  centuries,"  says  Reynaud,^  "to  restore  the 
ancient  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  were  all,  or  nearly  all, 
the  work  of  the  military  class."  After  a  life  of  ad- 
venture and  war,  or  after  a  stormy  youth,  these 
proud  feudal  lords  often  shut  themselves  up  in  cloi- 
sters, to  do  penance.  They  renounced  the  world, 
and  henceforth  their  austerities  were  performed 
with  the  same  ardour  which  they  had  formerly  ex- 
hibited in  their  exploits  of  war.  Thus,  Poppo  of 
Stavelot  was  affianced  to  a  wealthy  heiress,  when 
one  evening,  on  his  way  home  after  visiting  her,  a 
bright  light  suddenly  shone  about  him;  whereupon 
he  was  terrified,  and  in  remorse  for  his  past  life  he 
donned  the  Benedictine  cowl.  Examples  of  such 
conversions  are  numerous. 

The  monks  of  Cluny  not  only  instilled  a  new 
religious  zeal  within  their  own  cloister,  not  only  did 
they  restore  discipline  and  vows  and  piety,  not  only 
did  they  sustain  and  augment  the  fervid  faith  of  the 

5  L.  Raynaud,  Les  origines  de  V influence  franqaise  en  Allemagne, 
Paris,  1913,  p.  43. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  25 

people  depending  on  them ;  they  also  awakened  the 
same  spirit  in  a  great  many  other  monasteries. 
This  was  effected  through  a  far  reaching  reform: 
the  federation  of  monasteries.  For,  up  to  that  time, 
the  Benedictine  monasteries  had  been  independent. 
But  Cluny  organized  these  groups  and  placed  it- 
self at  the  head  of  a  strongly  centralized  regime. 
It  became  a  mother-house  whose  daughters  spread 
rapidly  abroad  throughout  all  France  and  England 
and  Germany  and  Northern  Spain  and  Hungary 
and  Poland.  At  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, two  thousand  Benedictine  houses  were  de- 
pendent on  the  Cluny  system;  and  today  dozens  of 
French  villages  still  bear  the  name  of  St.  Bene- 
dict, in  memory  of  one  or  another  of  those  Bene- 
dictine monasteries.  All  western  Christendom  was 
enmeshed  in  a  great  network  of  monastic  institu- 
tions, of  which  Cluny  was  the  soul  and  the  inspira- 
tion; and  thus  one  mind  and  one  polity  permeated 
the  whole  system. 

In  this  process  of  federalization  the  abbey  of 
Cluny  was  successfully  modelled  after  the  feudal 
system ;  but  it  then  in  turn  proceeded  to  impregnate 
that  same  feudalism  with  its  own  spirit.  Thus,  the 
feudal  conception  appears  in  the  vow  of  devotion 
which  attached  a  monk  to  his  monastery  as  a  vassal 
to  his  lord,  and  which  he  might  not  break  without 
his  superior's  consent;  in  the  sovereignty  of  the  ab- 
bot; in  his  visits  as  chief  to  his  subordinates;  in  the 
contributions  of  the  affiliated  monasteries  to  the 


26  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

mother-house ;  and  in  the  graded  series  of  federated 
groups.  But,  by  its  far  reaching  influence,  so 
mighty  a  power  could  successfully  combat  the 
forces  of  evil  in  contemporary  society,  and  it  could 
also  turn  current  ideas  to  the  service  of  Christian- 
ity. Cluny  christianized  feudalism.  This  influence 
is  revealed  to  us  in  four  main  aspects,  which  we 
shall  now  consider. 

First,  the  monks  treated  their  serfs  with  justice 
•^  and  kindness ;  those  fellow  human  beings  who  were 
born  on  their  land  and  who  worked  with  them  in 
forest  and  field.  And  this  was  done  at  a  time  when 
the  lay  barons  considered  their  serfs  as  slaves  and 
mere  instruments.  "We  exercise  the  same  author- 
ity as  the  seigneurs,"  writes  Peter  the  Venerable, 
abbot  of  Cluny  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, "but  we  make  a  different  use  of  it.  .  .  .  Our 
serfs  are  regarded  as  brothers  and  sisters.  Servos 
et  ancillas,  non  ut  servos  et  ancillas,  sed  ut  fratres 
et  sorores  liahent/'^ 

Second,  and  most  important,  the  monks  intro- 
y.  duced  Christian  ideals  into  the  minds  of  feudal 
^  barons.  By  the  sublime  morality  of  Christ,  com- 
pounded of  gentleness  and  love,  they  tempered  all 
that  was  brutal  in  the  ways  of  those  developing 
Gallo-Franks  and  Anglo-Celts,  whose  blood  was 
eager  for  war  and  for  combat  and  for  cruelty. 
Cluny  imposed  on  them  the  Peace  and  Truce  of 
God,  wherein  we  find  something  of  those  rights  of 

6  Epist.  28,  Migne,  Patr.  lat.  vol.  189,  col.  146. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  27 

bumanity  that  exist  for  all  time.  Once  the  Truce  of 
God  is  established,  so  runs  the  enactment,  all  clerks, 
peasants,  merchants,  and  non-combatants  in  gen- 
eral, shall  be  entitled  to  relief  from  the  violence  of 
the,  warriors.  Even  animals  must  be  respected. 
Religious  edifices  and  public  buildings  are  to  be 
safeguarded.  Furthermore,  hostilities  shall  be 
suspended  between  Wednesday  evening  and  Mon- 
day morning  during  all  of  Advent  and  Lent  and 
the  Emberdays,  as  well  as  on  all  principal  holidays. 
When  any  community  of  human  beings  exhibits 
consciousness  of  such  duties,  it  has  already  emerged 
from  barbarism;  and,  whatever  its  structure  in  de- 
tail may  be,  it  must  be  counted  among  those  socie- 
ties of  mankind  that  are  destined  to  a  high  civi- 
lization. 

Moreover,  in  the  third  place,  Cluny  moulded  the 
moral  sense  of  chivalry,  transformed  its  ideals,  and 
introduced  religion  into  its  ceremonies.  Once  the 
knight  came  in  contact  with  Christian  morality,  he 
was  no  longer  an  egotistic,  ambitious,  and  brutal 
warrior;  he  learned  to  be  loyal  and  generous;  he 
became  the  born-defender  of  the  Church,  the  cham- 
pion of  the  weak,  the  opponent  of  violence.  When- 
ever conferences  were  called  to  discuss  peace,  the 
monks  urged  charity  and  forgiveness  upon  the 
nobles,  who  frequently  repented  in  tears;  or, 
indeed,  the  very  men  who  had  pillaged  on  the  pre- 
vious day  would  forthwith  set  out  on  long  pilgri- 
mages to  St.  James  of  Compostella  or  to  Rome  or 


28^  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

to  Jerusalem,  to  expiate  their  crimes.  And  so  the 
monks  of  Cluny  galvanized  into  life  the  nascent 
virtues  of  the  race.  The  word  "Frank,"  originally 
the  name  of  a  people  inhabiting  Gaul,  came  to  be 
synonymous  with  "loyal."^  It  is  under  this  aspect 
that  chivalry  is  represented  in  the  numerous  twelfth 
century  romances,  in  the  Chansons  de  Geste  of 
which  the  Chanson  de  Roland  furnishes  the  most 
beautiful  example.  The  union  of  the  martial  spirit 
with  the  religious,  and  the  alliance  between  feudal 
system  and  Church  became  indissoluble.  When 
the  time  came  to  preach  the  Crusades,  Cluny  could 
call  with  confidence  upon  the  nobles  to  carry  their 
arms  into  the  Holy  Land.  The  First  Crusade  was 
in  fact  a  strictly  Cluniac  enterprise,  and  Pope  Ur- 
ban II,  who  proclaimed  it  at  the  famous  council  of 
Clermont,  had  been  himself  a  monk  of  Cluny. 
And  where,  indeed,  does  the  influence  of  the  mo- 
nastic ideal,  as  a  social  force,  appear  more  clearly 
than  in  those  qpics^^_^udacity,  those  distant  jour- 
neys on  which  so  many  young  nobles  lost  their 
lives  ? 

But  the  abbots  of  Cluny  performed  a  fourth  so- 
/  cial  service;  they  undertook  the  reform  of  the  secu- 
lar clergy,  both  priests  and  bishops.  They  con- 
demned the  scandalous  abuses  of  married  bishops, 
who  lived  like  feudal  barons,  wholly  given  over  to 
feasting  and  war.  They  also  worked  to  free  the 
bishops  from  the  patronage  of  the  great  feudal 

7  Reynaud,  o'p.  cit.,  p.  339. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  29 

lords,  who  sold  the  episcopal  offices,  and  they  pro- 
claimed aloud  that  the  bishops  ought  to  be  elected 
by  the  people  and  by  the  clerics, — in  the  famous  in- 
vestiture strife.  The  abuse,  however,  exercised  its 
most  baneful  influence  in  Germany,  where  the  dukes 
and  abbots  and  bishops  were,  as  we  have  seen,  mere 
creatures  of  the  Emperor.^  Moreover,  the  Pope 
himself  had  served  as  a  German  functionary  ever 
since  Otto  I  had  conquered  Italy  and  placed  upon 
his  own  head  the  crown  of  Charlemagne.  It  was 
the  great  abbey  of  Cluny  which  altered  this  state 
of  affairs.  It  was  Cluny  that  by  one  of  its 
daughter-houses,  the  abbey  of  Hirschau  in  the 
Black  Forest,  introduced  the  ideas  of  the  French 
feudal  system  along  with  its  monastic  reform.  The 
French  influence  of  Cluny  not  only  softened  the 
barbaric  habits  of  the  German  feudal  lords,  but  it 
also  put  an  end  to  that  dangerous  privilege  of 
naming  the  Pope,  which  the  German  Emperors 
had  appropriated  to  their  own  advantage ;  and  thus 
it  delivered  the  Papacy  from  that  humiliating  yoke. 
The  famous  Hildebrand  had  been  formerly  a  monk 
of  Cluny;  and,  as  Pope  Gregory  VII,  he  waged  the 
famous  investiture  strife  against  the  Emperor, 
Henry  IV.  This  duel  issued  in  the  defeat  of  the 
Emperor  at  Canossa.  In  that  dramatic  scene, 
which  concluded  the  struggle,  were  symbolized  with 
early  mediaeval  harshness  the  humiliation  of  the 
Emperor  and  the  triumph  of  the  Cluniac  ideas. 

8  See    above,    p.    22. 


30  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Henry  IV  was  forced  to  cross,  in  midwinter  and 
without  escort,  the  snow  covered  Alps,  and  for 
three  days  to  await  audience  with  the  Pope.  Hugh, 
the  abbot  of  Cluny,  was  witness  of  the  Emperor's 
humihation.  For  the  first  time,  French  ideas  had 
triumphed  over  the  power  of  Germany,''  and  these 
French  ideas  were  the  ideas  of  Cluny.  It  was  be- 
cause of  such  widespread  and  profound  influence, 
exercised  on  the  mentality  of  the  Middle  Ages  by 
the  celebrated  monastery,  that  in  1910,  at  the  mil- 
lennial congress  which  reunited  at  Cluny  learned 
men  from  everywhere,  one  of  them  could  say,  "We 
are  come  to  Cluny  to  sing  a  hymn  to  civilization."^*^ 
But  the  very  prosperity  of  Cluny,  especially  with 
its  extraordinary  wealth,  became  one  of  the  chief 
causes  of  its  declining  influence.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  twelfth  century  its  monastic  life  had  become 
more  lax,  and  henceforth  its  influence  as  a  social 
force  waned. 
/  But,  after  the  order  of  Cluny  had  performed  its 
>*^p;x*'great  service,  there  was  established  another  Bene- 
dictine congregation,  which  renewed  that  famous 
rule:  the  order  of  Citeaux  in  Burgundy,  which  im- 
mediately spread  throughout  all  France,  and  Eu- 
rope generally,  in  the  twelfth  century.  This  new 
order,  commonly  called  Cistercian,  was  also  a  fed- 
eration of  Benedictine  houses,  although  /each  of 
them  was  more  independent  than  was  the  case  in  the 

9  Cf.  Laraprecht,  Deutsche  Geschichte,  III,  pp.  192  and  193. 

"i^o  Millenaire  de  Cluny,  Academic  de  Ma^on,  1910,  vol.  XV,  p.  Ixxiv. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  31 

system  of  Cluny.  The  congregation  of  Citeaux 
continued  the  work  of  reformation,  moral  and 
rehgious,  with  which  Cluny  had  occupied  itself ;  but 
it  attached  more  importance  to  that  part  of  the  rule 
which  called  for  manual  labour, — and,  indeed,  by 
undertaking  works  of  public  utility,  such  as  drain- 
ing swamps  and  clearing  vast  expanses  of  territory, 
the  Cistercians  changed  the  agricultural  map  of 
Europe.  At  the  same  time,  they  did  much  to 
abolish  serfdom. 

The  religious  and  social  spirit  of  Citeaux  is  most 
apparent  in  the  authoritative  and  energetic  figure 
of  St.  Bernard,  who  dominated  the  whole  twelfth 
century.  Abbot  of  Clairvaux  —  a  monastery 
founded  by  him  and  a  dependent  of  Citeaux — this 
extraordinary  monk  was  not  only  saint,  and  ascetic, 
but  he  was  surprisingly  man  of  action  as  well.  He 
was  a  leader,  an  eloquent  orator  whose  sermons 
moved  multitudes,  and  he  dared  to  reprove  the 
great  and  the  humble  alike.  Thus,  he  criticizes  the 
monks  of  Cluny  as  men  "whose  cowl  is  cut  from  the 
same  piece  of  cloth  as  the  dress  of  the  knight,"  and 
whose  churches  are  decorated  with  useless  luxury. 
He  criticizes  the  abuses  of  the  Roman  court,  and  he 
has  no  eye  for  the  successor  of  Peter  adorned  with 
silk  and  borne  upon  a  white  palfrey  and  escorted 
by  clamorous  ministers.  He  criticizes  the  abuses 
in  the  lives  of  the  clerics,  and  he  cries  out  to  their 
teachers:  "Woe  betide  you  who  hold  the  keys  not 
only  of  knowledge  but  also  of  power."     He  dares 


32  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

to  correct  the  most  renowned  professors,  like  Abae- 
lard  and  Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  and  summons  them 
to  ecclesiastical  comicils.  He  urges  men  and  wo- 
men alike  to  crowd  into  the  monasteries;  he  pro- 
motes the  Second  Crusade;  he  encourages  the  ris- 
ing order  of  the  Templars,  that  military  order 
whose  members  were  at  once  monks  and  warriors, 
and  who  added  to  the  vows  of  religion  those  of  de- 
fending the  Holy  Land  and  the  pilgrims ;  he  takes 
interest  in  the  founding  of  the  order  of  the  Car- 
thusians, in  1132,  and  of  the  Premonstratensians,  in 
1120;  he  dreams  of  moulding  all  society  after  the 
plan  of  an  ascetic  ideal.  His  own  ideal  was  even 
more  lofty  than  that  of  his  age ;  and  when  he  died, 
in  1153,  mediaeval  society  had  already  achieved  the 
height  of  its  monastic  ideal/^ 

But  our  picture  of  the  mentality  of  the  period 
would  be  incomplete  if  we  rested  simply  with  the 
activities  of  the  Benedictine  orders;  in  addition  we 
must  point  out  briefly  the  activities  of  bishops  and 
Pope. 

The  bishops  were  involved  more  intimately  in 
the  working  of  the  feudal  machinery  than  were  the 
monasteries ;  for  they  were  temporal  princes  within 
the  limits  of  their  fiefs  and  prelates  in  their  dioceses. 
They  owed  to  their  overlords  support  in  time  of 
war,  and  such  bishops  as  Hugh  of  Noyers,  at  Aux- 
erre,  or  Mathew  of  Lorraine,  at  Toul,  were  war- 
riors of  a  rough  and  primitive  type.     Others,  like 

11  See  Vacandard,  Vie  de  S.  Bernard,  2  vol.  Paris,  1902. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  33 

Etienne  of  Tournai,  Peter  of  Corbeil,  William  of 
Champagne,  were  humanists  and  men  of  letters. 
Maurice  of  Sully,  elected  bishop  of  Paris  in  1160, 
was  a  model  administrator  in  the  days  of  the  great 
changes  in  studies  effected  at  Paris.  The  bishops 
of  Chartres,  of  Laon  and  of  Tournai  play  no  less 
important  a  part  in  the  domain  of  letters. 

Finally,  we  could  not  understand  the  political 
and  social  spirit  of  Europe,  in  the  twelfth  century, 
without  taking  into  account  the  growing  prestige 
of  the  Papacy.  After  having  been  freed,  by  the 
action  of  Cluny,  from  the  humiliation  of  the  Ger- 
man Emperor,  the  way  was  open  to  the  Papacy  of 
becoming  the  greatest  moral  force  in  the  world. 
During  the  twelfth  century  it  was  in  process  of  or- 
ganizing the  theocracy,  which  was  to  reach  its 
zenith  in  the  following  century,  under  Innocent 
III.  On  those  pious  Christian  kings  of  France, 
the  action  of  the  Papacy  exerted  always  a  power- 
ful political  influence.  "In  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
French  crown  and  the  Papacy  could  be  near  to 
falling  out  with  each  other,  but  they  were  never 
separated."^^ 

12  Luchaire,  op.  cit.,  p.  149.  The  bourgeoisie  of  the  towns,  or  com- 
munes, should  be  mentioned  also  in  this  connection.  The  towns  first 
rose,  in  Italy  and  elsewhere,  at  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, and  during  the  twelfth  century  they  became  real  factors  in  the 
general  progress.  The  bourgeoisie,  or  body  of  merchants,  assumed 
organized  form,  and  it  adapted  itself  to  feudalism.  "L'air  de  la 
ville  donne  la  liberty,"  since  a  serf  who  lived  in  a  town  for  a  year 
and  a  day  secured  thereby  his   freedom  and   retained  it.     In   the 


34  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

III 

We  have  now  seen  how  a  new  spirit  was  in 
process  of  formation.  What  then  constitutes  the 
essence  of  this  spirit — the  spirit  which  arose  from 
the  depths  of  the  mediaeval  soul,  and  which  became 
impregnated  with  Christianity,  and  which,  from 
England  and  France,  penetrated  the  whole  of 
western  Europe? 

The  feudal  sentiment  par  excellence,  which  is 
still  so  deeply  embedded  in  our  modern  conscience, 
is  the  sentiment  of  the  value  and  dignity  of  the  in- 
dividual man.  The  feudal  man  lived  as  a  free  man ; 
he  was  master  in  his  own  house;  he  sought  his  end 
in  himself;  he  was — and  this  is  a  scholastic  expres- 
sion— pro2)ter  seipsum  existens;  all  feudal  obliga- 
tions were  founded  upon  respect  for  personality 
and  the  given  word.  The  scrupulous  observance  of 
feudal  contract  engendered  the  reciprocal  loyalty 
of  vassal  and  lord ;  fraternal  feelings  and  self-sacri- 
fice among  men  belong  also  to  this  class. 

Under  the  influence  of  Cluny,  this  feudal  senti- 
ment became  Christian  in  character,  because  Chris- 
tianity placed  upon  each  soul  purchased  by  Christ's 
sacrifice  an  inestimable  worth,  and  it  furnished  the 
poor  and  the  rich  and  the  great  and  the  small  with 
the  same  standard  of  value.  The  scrupulous  ob- 
servance of  the  feudal  contract  engendered  loyalty. 

thirteenth  century  the  nouveaux  riches  of  the  merchant  class  laid  the 
foundations  of  a  "patriarcat  urbain"  which  was  destined  to  rival  the 
nobility  in  wealth. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  35 

Wlien  loyalty  became  a  Christian  virtue,  it  in- 
creased respect  for  women  and  probity  in  the 
poor, — that  probity  which  St.  Louis  IX  said  was 
like  sweet  honey  to  his  lips.  Honour  became  the 
pass-word  of  chivalry — a  sort  of  moral  institution 
supeHmposed  on  feudalism.  The  social  habits  of 
educated  laymen  were  made  gentler  by  the  warm 
contact  of  chivalry,  and  courteous  manners  spread 
far  and  wide. 

IV 

But  the  twelfth  century  gave  birth  also  to  en- 
tirely new  forms  of  art, — and,  indeed,  in  a  marvel- 
ous way.  All  branches  on  the  tree  of  art  began 
quickly  to  flower  under  the  grateful  zephyrs  of  the 
new  spring  that  was  come:  cka7isons  de  geste,  or 
romances  invented  by  the  troubadours;  the  letters 
of  Abaelard  and  Heloise,  which,  however  restrained, 
reveal  all  the  fervour  of  human  love;  those  hymns 
of  purest  Latin  writen  by  men  like  St.  Bernard, — 
whose  flow  suggests  now  the  murmuring  of  a  brook 
and  anon  the  roaring  of  a  river  in  flood — or  those 
stanzas  penned  by  Adam  of  St.  Victor,  that  won- 
derful poet  who,  in  the  silence  of  his  cloister  at 
Paris,  sang  the  festivals  of  divine  love  in  most 
perfect  Latin  form.^^ 

But,  above  all,  there  were  built  at  that  time 
those      magnificent      Romanesque      abbeys      and 

13(7/.    Henry    Adams,    Mont     St.    Michel   and   Chartres,    ch.    XV: 
"The  Mystics." 


36  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

churches  with  their  varied  new  forms, — such  as 
barreled  vaults,  towers,  doorways,  cruciform 
ground-plan,  choirs  with  surrounding  ambulatories 
and  radiating  chapels.  In  these  forms  the  func- 
tions of  the  Church  shine  forth  with  marvelous 
clarity,  and  yet  in  them  the  virile  power  of  the 
period  is  harmoniously  revealed.  Local  schools  of 
architecture  appeared,  such  as  those  of  Normandy, 
of  Auvergne,  of  Poitou,  of  Burgundy;  and  the 
Benedictine  abbots  were  promoters  of  the  new  stan- 
dard of  architecture.  They  did  not  adopt  a  uni- 
form Romanesque  style ;  rather  they  took  over  and 
developed  the  architecture  of  the  region  in  which 
they  happened  to  be.  At  the  same  time,  they 
pressed  into  the  service  of  architecture  all  the  de- 
vices of  ornamentation.  The  bare  pillars  were 
clothed  with  life,  their  capitals  were  covered  with 
flowerings  in  stone;  the  portals  were  peopled  with 
statues;  painted  glass  was  put  in  the  windows  of 
the  sanctuaries ;  frescoes  or  mural  paintings  covered 
the  walls  and  concealed  the  nakedness  of  the  stone : 
the  whole  church  was  covered  with  a  mantle  of 
beauty.  Artist-monks  were  trained  in  sculpturing 
columns  and  statues  and  they  travelled  from  one 
workshop  to  another,  while  yet  others  opened 
schools  of  painting,  as  in  St.  Savin  near  Poitiers 
where  the  twelfth  century  frescoes  still  retain  their 
bright  colouring." 

14  In  these  frescoes  the  "courtesy"  of  the  time  is  very  striking, 
especially  in  the  bearing  of  ladies  and  knights,  so  full  of  elegance. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  37 

V 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  the  feudal  customs 
and  the  manifestations  of  art  born  in  France  spread 
thence  into  other  countries, — and  the  Benedictines 
of  Cluny  and  of  Citeaux  were  the  principal  agency 
in  this  diffusion.  In  England  the  infiltration  of 
feudal  customs  is  easily  explained  by  the  close  re- 
lations existing  between  the  two  countries;  and  the 
orders  of  Cluny  and  Citeaux  swarmed  thither  like 
bees  from  a  hive.  The  abbey  churches  of  St.  Al- 
bans and  Malmesbury  and  Fountains  Abbey  were 
built  upon  principles  brought  over  from  Nor- 
mandy. But  for  all  their  borrowing,  whatever  it 
may  have  been,  they  certainly  possess  the  charm  of 
originality.  Epic  literature,  however,  which  at- 
tained such  a  high  degree  of  perfection  in  Chaucer, 
shows  still  the  influence  of  the  French  fabliauoo. 
For,  in  the  twelfth  and  in  the  thirteenth  centuries 
"France,  if  not  Paris,  was  in  reality  the  eye  and 
brain  of  Europe,  the  place  of  origin  of  almost  every 
literary  form,  the  place  of  finishing  and  polishing, 
even  for  those  forms  which  she  did  not  originate. "^^ 

German  historians,  such  as  Lamprecht  and 
Steinhausen,  recognize  the  same  hegemony  of 
French  ideas  in  Germany.^^  The  Cistercians,  who 
poured  forth  from  France,  undertook  in  Germany 

15  Saintsbury,  The  Flourishing  of  Romance  and  the  Rise  of  Alle- 
gory, London,  1897,  p.  266. 

16  Steinhausen,   Geschichte   der  deutschen  Kultur,   Bd.   I,   1913,   p. 
312:     "Frankreich  wird  das  kulturell-fiihrende  Land." 


38  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

and  Bohemia  and  Hungary  the  work  of  clearing 
the  forests — which  so  changed  the  economic  face  of 
Central  Europe.  But  it  was  also  Frenchmen  who 
introduced  at  the  Swabian  court  the  habits  of  cour- 
tesy,— from  the  manner  of  greeting  and  the  way 
of  comporting  oneself  at  table  to  the  habit  of  con- 
trol and  moderation  in  all  things.  The  monks  of 
Cluny  carried  Romanesque  architecture  along  the 
Rhine,  while  the  Cistercian  monks  became  later  the 
propagators  of  Gothic  architecture. 

Finally,  Romanesque  architecture  borne  on  the 
wings  of  French  influence  was  carried,  together 
with  chivalry,  across  the  Alps.  They  crossed  the 
Pyrenees  as  well,  and  the  Moorish  genius  imparted 
its  smile  to  the  severer  forms  of  Occidental  art. 

So,  turn  where  we  will,  the  twelfth  century  is  a 
constructive  one;  great  forces  are  in  the  making, 
though  their  action  is  not  yet  a  combined  one.  The 
local  spirit,  which  splits  France,  England,  and  the 
other  countries  into  small  feudal  municipalities,  and 
is  revealed  even  in  the  separate  workshops  of  the 
artists,  appears  in  every  detail  of  the  organized 
social  and  religious  life. 


CHAPTER  THREE 


The  Civilization  as  Reflected  in  Philosophy 

i.  Location  of  philosophical  schools;  invasion  of  French 
schools  by  foreigners,  ii.  Delimitation  of  the  several  sciences ; 
philosophy  distinct  from  the  seven  liberal  arts  and  from  the- 
ology, iii.  Harmony  of  the  feudal  sense  of  personal  worth 
with  the  philosophical  doctrine  that  the  individual  alone 
exists,  iv.  The  feudal  civilization  and  the  anti-realistic  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  of  universals. 


Such  a  civilization  was  ripe  for  the  things  of  the 
spirit.  And  so  it  came  about  that  culture,  both 
intellectual  and  philosophical,  burst  into  bloom  in 
this  flowering  season  of  things  mediaeval.  As  a 
plant  of  rare  nature,  it  shot  up  in  the  midst  of  an 
exuberant  garden.  We  shall  limit  ourselves  to  a 
threefold  consideration  of  the  reflection  of  civiliza- 
tion in  philosophy  during  the  twelfth  century: 
namely,  the  localization  of  schools;  the  definite  dis- 
tinction of  the  several  branches  of  learning;  the 
affirmation  in  philosophical  terms  of  the  worth  of 
human  personality. 

First,  it  was  quite  natural  that  'philosophical  life 
should  be  subjected  to  the  confinement  of  that  same 
local  spirit  which  appeared  everywhere. 

39 


40  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

All  over  France  numerous  independent  schools 
were  gathered  about  the  cathedrals  and  the  abbeys. 
Each  was  a  child  of  liberty,  a  literary  republic,  de- 
pending only  on  bishop  or  abbot ;  for  in  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries  there  was  no  government 
control  of  education.  Each  school  sought  to  out- 
rival the  others  by  increasing  its  library,  by  attract- 
ing professors  of  renown,  and  by  drawing  students 
to  its  intellectual  tournaments. 

This  educational  regime  was  salutaiy,  for  it  pro- 
moted the  study  of  the  sciences  and  raised  a  legion 
of  remarkable  humanists,  theologians,  lawyers,  and 
philosophers.  We  need  but  cite  the  schools  of 
Cluny  and  Citeaux  in  Burgundy;  of  Bee  in  Nor- 
mandy ;  of  Aurillac  and  of  St.  Martin  at  Tours ;  of 
Lobbes;  of  St.  Omer;  the  cathedral  schools  of 
Laon,  of  Chartres,  of  Rheims,  of  Paris;  and  many 
others.  All  of  them  developed  in  the  midst  of 
feudal  principalities,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
overlords  were  generally  at  war.  This  was  possi- 
ble at  that  time  because  war  interested  only  the 
professional  fighting  men,  and  did  not  affect  the 
living  conditions  of  any  country  as  a  whole.  Among 
the  most  famous  teachers  of  the  twelfth  century 
were  Anselm  of  Laon,  William  of  Champeaux, 
Abaelard,  Hugo  and  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  Adel- 
ard  of  Bath,  Alan  of  Lille,  and  the  scholars  of 
Chartres ;  but  there  were  many  others,  whose  names 
will  appear  as  we  proceed.  They  liked  to  go  from 
one  place  to  another,  and  we  see  a  certain  system  of 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  41 

exchange  professors  in  vogue.  William  of  Cham- 
peaux  taught  philosophy  successfully  in  the  cathe- 
dral schools  of  Laon  and  of  Paris,  and  in  the  abbey 
of  St.  Victor  in  Paris;  Theodoric  of  Chartres  was 
professor  at  Chartres,  and  also  at  Paris;  William 
of  Conches  and  Gilbert  de  la  Porree  went  to  Char- 
tres and  to  Paris;  Adelard  of  Bath  was  at  Paris 
and  at  Laon ;  Peter  Abaelard — the  knight-errant  of 
dialectics,  who  summoned  to  the  tourney  of  syllo- 
gisms as  others  of  his  family  summoned  to  the 
tourney  of  arms — lectured  in  Melun,  in  Corbeil,  in 
his  private  school  at  the  Paraclete,  and  he  returned 
several  times  to  the  cathedral  schools  in  Paris. 

In  the  time  of  Abaelard,  the  invasion  of  the 
French  schools  by  foreigners  had  reached  its  height. 
Above  all,  the  influx  of  English  students  was  ever 
increasing.  This  was  due  to  the  close  relations  ex- 
isting between  both  countries  and  to  the  lack  of 
educational  centres  in  the  British  Isles.  More  than 
one  remained  to  teach  where  he  himself  was  taught. 
For  example,  there  was  Adelard  of  Bath,  who 
speaks  of  the  Gallicarum  sententiarum  constantia, 
and  who  left  his  nephew  at  Laon  to  master  the 
Gallica  studia  while  he  himself  travelled  in  Spain  ;^ 

1  "Meministi  nepos,  quod  septennio  jam  transacto,  cum  te  in  gallicis 
studiis  pene  parvum  juxta  Laudisdunum  una  cum  ceteris  auditori- 
bus  in  eis  dimiserim,  id  inter  nos  convenisse,  ut  arabum  studia  ego 
pro  posse  meo  scrutarer,  gallicarum  sententiarum  constantiam  non 
minus  adquireres."  Adelardi  Batensis  de  quihusdam  naturalibus 
quaestionibus,  Man.  lat.  Escorial,  O  III,  2,  fol.  74  R^  Cf.  P.  G. 
Antolin,  Catalogo  de  los  codices  latinos  de  la  real  Bibl.  del  Escorial, 


42  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

also  there  was  the  Scotchman  Richard  of  St.  Vic- 
tor in  the  mystic  cloister  of  St.  Victor  in  Paris;  and 
there  was  Isaac  of  Stella,  also  an  Englishman,  in 
the  abbey  of  Stella  close  to  Poitiers;  and  the  most 
famous  of  all  was  John  of  Salisbury,  who  became 
bishop  of  Chartres  after  having  taught  in  its  cathe- 
dral school.  Others  settled  in  their  native  country, 
after  having  studied  at  Paris,  such  as  Walter  Map 
and  Alexander  Neckham.  Meanwhile,  French 
scholars  also  went  to  England  and  settled  there; 
such  were,  for  example,  Peter  of  Blois  and  Richard 
Dover.^  All  of  these  men  agree  in  recognizing  the 
importance  of  the  training  afforded  by  the  French 
schools. 

As  for  Germany,  the  attraction  of  French  learn- 
ing was  no  less  irresistible.  Even  in  the  tenth 
century  the  German  Emperors  recognized  this  su- 
periority,  and   summoned  to  their  court   French 

vol.  Ill,  p.  226.  I  have  not  succeeded  in  finding  a  copy  of  the  in- 
cunabel  edition  of  this  interesting  treatise. 

With  the  above  compare  the  expression:  "Franci(a)e  magistri," 
in  an  unpublished  thirteenth  century  manuscript,  in  connection  with 
the  difficulty  of  translating  Aristotle's  Posterior  Analytics  (C.  H. 
Raskins,  "Mediaeval  Versions  of  the  Posterior  Analytics."  Harvard 
Studies  in  Classical  Philology,  1914,  vol.  XXV,  p.  94.)  "Nam  trans- 
latio  Boecii  apud  nos  Integra  non  invenitur,  et  id  ipsum  quod  de  ea 
reperitur  vitio  corruptionis  obfuscatur.  Translationem  vero  Jacobi 
obscuritatis  tenebris  involvi  silentio  suo  peribent  Francie  magistri, 
qui  quamvis  illam  translacionem  et  commentarios  ab  eodem  Jacobo 
translatos  habeant,  tamen  noticiam  illius  libri  non  audent  profiteri." 

2  J.  E.  Sandys,  "English  Scholars  of  Paris  and  Franciscans  in  Ox- 
ford," in  The  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  I,  pp. 
199  ff. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  43 

masters.  Thus,  the  Emperor  Otto  III  wrote  a  let- 
ter to  the  famous  Gerbert,  professor  in  Rheims  and 
who  later  became  Pope  Sylvester  II,  in  which  he 
said:  "We  heartily  desire  your  presence  here,  dis- 
tinguished man,  that  you  may  relieve  me  of  my 
Saxon  rusticity,  Saxonica  rusticitas/''^  Otto  was 
successful  in  creating  an  interesting  intellectual 
movement  within  the  confines  of  his  country.  But 
this  renaissance  of  learning  was  not  of  long  dura- 
tion; and  from  the  eleventh  century  on  the  schools 
of  Fulda  and  Reichenau  and  St.  Gall  fell  into  de- 
cline and  decay.  In  the  twelfth  century  the  same 
fate  befell  the  schools  at  Liege,  which  were  depen- 
dent on  the  Empire.*  The  German  clerics  also 
went  to  French  schools, — to  Rheims,  Chartres, 
Laon,  Paris,  Le  Bee — and  the  young  barons  con- 
sidered it  a  privilege  to  be  educated  at  the  court  of 
Louis  VII.  Otloh  of  St.  Emmeram,  Otto  of  Frei- 
singen,  Manegold  of  Lautenbach,  Hugo  of  St. 
Victor,  in  fact  all  German  theologians  and  philoso- 
phers and  humanists  of  repute  in  that  century, 
were  educated  in  French  schools.  Paris  is  the 
source  of  all  science,  writes  Cesaire  of  Heister- 
bach;^  scientists,  adds  Otto  of  Freising,  have  emi- 
grated to  France, — and  both  chronicles  merely 
reecho   the   saying  of   the   time:      "To   Italy  the 

^Lettres  de  Gerbert   (983-997),  ed.  Havet,  Paris,  1889,  p.  172. 

4  Cf.  my  Histoire   de   la  Philosophie   en  Belgique,  Louvain,   1910, 
pp.  18-22. 

5  Steinhausen,  oj).  cit.,  p.  355. 


44  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Papacy,  to  Germany  the  Empire,  and  to  France 
learning." 

Italy  also  sent  men  in  no  small  numbers.  In  the 
eleventh  century  the  monk  Lanfranc,  a  type  of 
wandering  professor,  serves  as  an  example.  From 
Pavia  and  from  Bologna  he  went  to  the  abbey  of 
Bee,  and  there  was  joined  by  another  Italian,  the 
Piedmontese  Anselm  of  Aosta.  In  the  twelfth 
century,  Peter  Lombard  and  Peter  of  Capua,  and 
Praepositinus  of  Cremona  all  taught  at  Paris.  Ro- 
lando Bandinelli,  the  future  Pope  Alexander  III, 
pursued  his  studies  under  Abaelard;  and  he  who 
was  to  become  Innocent  III  learned  his  theology 
and  his  grammar  at  Paris.  It  must  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  in  Italy  more  than  in  England  and  in 
Germany,  there  were  independent  centres  of  intel- 
lectual life.  Suffice  it  to  mention  the  schools  of  Bo- 
logna, whence  arose  a  university  as  ancient  and  as 
influential  as  that  of  Paris,  and  the  Benedictine 
schools  of  Monte  Cassino,  where  in  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury Constantine  of  Carthage  established  one  of  the 
first  Occidental  contacts  with  the  world  of  Arabian 
learning,  and  where  later  on  Thomas  Aquinas  re- 
ceived his  early  education. 

But  not  all  French  schools  enjoyed  equal  celeb- 
rity ;  they  were  rated  according  to  the  fame  of  their 
professors,  just  as  today  a  school's  reputation  and 
its  worth  depend  upon  the  excellence  of  its  teaching 
staff.  Hence,  we  can  understand  the  change  in 
the  fame  of  the  schools.     Thus,  for  example,  with 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  45 

the  opening  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  cathedral 
schools  of  Tournai  (Odon  of  Tournai),  of  Rheims 
(Alberic  of  Rheims  and  Gauthier  of  Mortagne), 
of  Laon  (Anselm  of  Laon),  had  shed  their  last 
splendor.  For  they  were  eclipsed  by  the  cathedral 
schools  of  Chartres,  founded  by  Fulbert,  at  which 
there  developed  during  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth 
century  a  humanist  movement,  which  devoted  it- 
self to  achieving  a  Latin  style  of  rare  elegance,  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  the  classics,  and  an  acquain- 
tance with  the  complete  Organon  of  Aristotle. 
Bernard  of  Chartres,  in  1117,  became  the  first  of  a 
line  of  famous  masters;  and  Thierry  of  Chartres, 
about  1141,  wrote  his  celebrated  treatise  on  the 
liberal  arts,  the  Heptateuchon, — written  just  as 
the  south  portal  of  the  cathedral  was  receiving  its 
ornamentation,  with  its  detail  of  sculptured  figures 
which  represent  the  trivium  and  quadrivium. 

But  even  before  this  Paris  had  been  in  position 
to  assert  the  superiority  of  her  schools.  The  fame 
of  Abaelard  at  the  schools  of  the  cathedral  and  of 
St.  Genevieve  drew  a  host  of  students  and  masters 
to  Paris;  the  monastery  of  St.  Victor,  where  Wil- 
liam of  Champeaux  founded  a  chair  of  theology, 
became  a  centre  of  mystical  studies;  and  the  uni- 
versity was  all  but  born. 

The  localism  of  these  schools  did  not,  however, 
prevent  a  certain  uniformity  in  method  of  teach- 
ing and  in  curriculum  and  in  scholarly  practise ;  and 
this  uniformity  helped  to  pave  the  way  for  the  cos- 


46  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

mopolitan  character  of  the  teaching  of  philosophy 
in  the  universities.  The  locaHsm  and  the  centrahz- 
ing  tendency  commingled, — very  much  as  the  au- 
tonomy of  the  feudal  barons  and  the  unifying 
policy  of  the  kings  did  in  the  political  realm. 

Studying  and  teaching  were  monopolized  by  one 
social  class,  the  clergy.  The  international  hier- 
archy of  the  Church,  and  the  universal  use  of  Latin 
as  the  scientific  language  established  a  natural 
union  among  the  masters  of  the  West ;  the  frequent 
migration  of  students  and  scholars,  from  school  to 
school,  facilitated  the  spread  of  every  innovation 
in  method,  program,  and  vocabulary. 

II 

The  twelfth  century  remained  faithful  to  the 
traditional  program  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  but 
the  frame  was  enlarged  in  every  direction.  This 
brings  us  to  a  second  group  of  ideas  connected  with 
the  spirit  of  the  civilization,  and  which  I  call  the 
demarcation  of  boundaries  between  the  sciences.  In 
the  early  centuries  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  pro- 
gram of  studies  included  grammar-rhetoric-dia- 
lectic (logic),  which  comprised  the  tiivium,  and 
arithmetic-geometry-astronomy-music,  which  com- 
prised the  quadrivium;  in  this  program  one  readily 
recognizes  the  beginnings  of  our  modern  secondary 
education. 

Grammar  included  not  only  the  study  of  the 
ancient    and    mediaeval    grammarians     (Donatus, 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  47 

Priscian,  and  Remi  of  Aiixerre),  but  also  a  study 
of  the  classics  themselves, — such  as  Virgil,  Seneca, 
Horace,  and  others.  Cicero  and  Quintilian  and 
Marius  Victorinus  are  mentioned  as  among  the 
authors  preferred  for  instruction  in  rhetoric.^  For 
a  long  time  law  was  also  regarded  as  a  branch  of 
rhetoric;  and  it  was  not  until  the  time  of  Irnerius 
of  Bologna  that  law  was  taught  as  a  branch  dis- 
tinct from  the  liberal  arts  course.^'  About  the  mid- 
dle of  the  twelfth  century  the  study  of  dialectics  in- 
cluded all  the  Organon  of  Aristotle.  As  for  the 
teaching  of  the  quadrivium,  it  always  lagged  behind 
that  of  the  trivium,  Euclid  is  the  master  in  mathe- 
matics. The  study  of  astronomy  was  given  a  cer- 
tain impulse  by  Adelard  of  Bath,  who  was  initiated 
into  the  Arabian  science  in  Spain  about  the  middle 
of  the  twelfth  century. 

But  such  a  program  was  felt  to  be  too  narrov/ 
in  the  twelfth  century,  and  philosophy  notably  re- 
ceived a  definite  place  outside  the  liberal  arts, — 
which  it  leaves  below,  with  theology  above. 

It  has  been  long  supposed,  and  people  still  say, 
that  philosoplty  in  the  Middle  Ages  was  confused 
with  dialectics  (one  of  the  three  branches  of  the 
trivium  above  described)  ;  that  it  reduced  to  a  hand- 
ful of  arid  disputes  quarrels  on  the  syllogism  and 

6  Clerval,  Les  ecoles  de  Chartres  du  moyen  age  du  V'e  au  XVI'e 
sUcles,  pp.  221  ff. 

6"  Be  it  observed,  however,  that  the  study  of  Roman  law  had  never 
been  wholly  abandoned  in  Western  Europe. 


48  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

on  sophisms.  This  thesis  has  a  seeming  founda- 
tion, thanks  to  certain  dialectical  acrobats  who,  in 
the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  emptied  philoso- 
phy of  all  ideas  and  rendered  it  bloodless  and  bar- 
ren {''exsanguis  et  sterilis/'  are  John  of  Salisbury's 
words).  But  the  truth  is  quite  otherwise.  These 
"virtuosi,"  with  their  play  on  words  and  verbal 
discussions,  were  strongly  combated;  and  the  men 
of  real  worth — such  as  Anselm  of  Canterbury, 
Abaelard,  Thierry  of  Chartres,  John  of  SaHsbury, 
and  others — not  only  practiced  dialectics  or  formal 
logic  with  sobriety  and  applied  it  in  accordance 
with  doctrine,  but  they  created  a  place  for  philoso- 
phy separate  from  and  beyond  the  liberal  arts,  and 
consequently  beyond  dialectics.  Their  writings 
treat  of  the  problems  of  metaphysics  and  psychol- 
ogy, which  is  matter  quite  different  from  formal 
dialectics. 

While  it  hardly  exists  in  the  "glosses"  of  the 
Carlovingian  schools,  philosophy  rapidly  progresses 
towards  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century  consists  of  a  con- 
siderable body  of  doctrine,  which  the  following 
centuries  were  to  make  fruitful. 

Now  when  philosophy  had  gained  its  distinct  po- 
sition, the  propaedeutic  character  of  the  liberal 
arts  became  evident:  they  serve  as  initiation  to 
higher  studies.  Men  of  the  twelfth  century  take 
them  into  consideration,  and  the  first  who  are  en- 
gaged with  the  classification  of  the   sciences  ex- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  49 

press  themselves  clearly  on  this  subject.  Speak- 
ing of  the  liberal  arts,  Sunt  tanquam  septem  viae" 
says  a  codex  of  Bamberg;  they  are,  so  to  speak,  the 
seven  ways  that  lead  to  the  other  sciences — physics 
(part  of  philosophy),  theology,  and  the  science  of 
law/  *Hugo  of  St.  Victor  and  others  speak  in  the 
same  sense.  At  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  the 
iconography  of  the  cathedrals,  the  sculptures,  and 
the  medallions  in  the  glass  windows,  as  well  as  the 
miniatures  in  manuscripts,  confirm  this  thesis.  The 
philosophy  which  inspired  artists  is  represented  as 
existing  apart  from  and  by  the  side  of  the  liberal 
arts;  for  instance,  at  Laon  and  at  Sens,  and  much 
more  so  in  the  window  at  Auxerre  placed  above  the 
choir.  The  copy,  still  preserved  at  Paris,  of  the 
Hortus  Deliciarum  by  Herrad  of  Landsberg  (the 
original  at  Strasburg  was  burnt  during  the  bom- 
bardment in  1870)  places  philosophy  in  the  centre 
of  a  rose  with  seven  lobes  disposed  around  it,^  and 
in  the  mosaic  pavement  of  the  cathedral  of  Ivrea, 
philosophy  is  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  seven  arts.^ 

7  "Ad  istas  tres  scientias  (phisica,  theologia,  scientia  legum) 
paratae  sunt  tanquam  viae  septem  liberales  artes  que  in  trivio  et 
quadrivio  continentur."  Cod.  Q.  VI,  30.  Grabmann.  Die  Geschichte 
der  scholastichen  Methode.,  1909,  Bd.  II,  p.  39. 

8  E.  Male,  L'art  religieux  du  Xllle  siecle  en  France,  Etude  sur 
I'iconographie  et  sur  ses  sources  d'inspiration.  Paris,  1910,  pp.  112  S. 
Cf.  L.  Br6hier,  L'art  chretien.  Son  developpement  iconographique 
des  origines  a  nos  jours.     Paris,  1918. 

9  A.  K.  Porter,  Lombard  Architecture,  New  Haven,  1907,  vol.  I, 
p.  347. 


50  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

But  the  twelfth  century  did  more  than  clearly 
distinguish  the  liberal  arts  from  philosophy;  it  also 
inaugurated  a  completer  separation  between  phi- 
losophy and  theology.  And  the  establishment  of 
this  doctrine  of  scientific  methodology  is  of  the 
highest  importance  in  the  study  in  which  we  are 
engaged.  The  question  of  the  existence  of  philoso- 
phy as  distinct  from  theology  is,  for  philosophy,  a 
matter  of  life  or  death;  and  it  is  now  definitely 
answered,  we  may  say  unhesitatingly.  But  here 
also  there  are  historical  stages,  and  their  study  is 
illuminating  and  suggestive.  The  Middle  Ages,  in 
the  beginning,  took  up  the  Neo-Platonic  and  Au- 
gustinian  idea  of  the  entire  identification  of  philos- 
ophy with  theology.  Thus  it  is  that  John  Scotus 
Eriugena  wrote  in  the  ninth  century:  ''Quid  est 
aliud  de  philosophia  tract  are  nisi  verae  religionis, 
qua  summa  et  principalis  omnium  rerum  causa 
Deus  et  humiliter  colitur  et  rationabiliter  in- 
vestigatur,  regulas  eooponere/'^''  But  at  the  end 
of  the  eleventh  century,  and  especially  after  St. 
Anselm  had  given  his  solution  of  the  problem  of  the 
relation  between  faith  and  reason,  the  distinction 
between  the  two  sciences  was  practically  accepted; 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  St.  Anselm,  for  example, 
speaks  sometimes  as  a  philosopher  and  sometimes 
as  a  theologian.  The  twelfth  centur}^  advances  a 
step  further,  and  the  distinction  between  philoso- 
phy and  theology  becomes  one  of  its  characteristic 

10  De  divina  praedestinatione,  I,  1   (Patr.  lat.  vol.  122,  c.  357-358). 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  51 

declarations.  A  codex  of  Regensburg  of  the 
twelfth  century  clearly  distinguishes  philosophers, 
''humanae  videlicet  sapientiae  amatores/'  from  the- 
ologians, "divinae  scripturae  doctores/'^^ 

I  am  of  course  aware  that  besides  these  texts 
there  are  others  in  which  philosophy  is  abused  or 
misunderstood;  that  reactionary  minds,  narrow  the- 
ologians or  disdainful  mystics,  condemned  profane 
knowledge  as  useless,  or  if  they  admitted  philoso- 
phy, they  reduced  it  to  the  rank  of  a  vassal  and  a 
serf  of  theology.  In  the  eleventh  century  Otloh 
of  St.  Emmeram  forbade  monks  the  study  of  it; 
they,  he  said,  having  renounced  the  world,  must 
occupy  themselves  only  with  divine  things.  Peter 
Damien  wrote  concerning  dialectics,  that  even 
though  sometimes  (quando),  by  way  of  exception, 
it  is  allowed  to  occupy  itself  with  theological  mat- 
ters and  with  mysteries  of  divine  power  {mysteria 
divinae  virtutis) ,  it  should  nevertheless  renounce  all 
spirit  of  independence  (for  that  would  be  arro- 
gance), and  like  a  servant  place  itself  at  the  ser- 
vice of  its  mistress,  theology:  Velut  ancilla  domi- 
nae  quodam  famtdatus  ohsequio  suhservire^^ 

Here  for  the  first  time  this  famous  phrase  ap- 
pears. It  is  repeated  in  the  twelfth  century  by  a 
united  group  of  so-called  "rigorist  theologians" — 
Peter  of  Blois,  Stephen  of  Tournai,  Michael  of 
Corbeil,  and  many  others.    The  lofty  mystics  of  the 

11  Grabmann,  op.  cit.,  I,  191.  cod.  Clm.  No.  14'401. 

12  Be  divina  omnipotentia,  c.  5   Patr.  lat.  vol.   14,  c.  603. 


52  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

convent  of  St.  Victor  at  Paris — Walter  and  Absa- 
lon  of  St.  Victor — went  so  far  as  to  say  that  phi- 
losophy is  the  devil's  art,  and  that  certain  theolo- 
gians who  used  it  were  *'the  labyrinths"  of  France. 
But  one  must  not  forget  that  these  detractors  of 
philosophy  were  a  minority,  just  as  the  quibbling 
dialecticians  formed  an  exceptional  class  also,  and 
that  already  in  the  eleventh  and  the  twelfth  century 
the  best  minds  rejected  the  unhappy  phrase  of 
Damien.  St.  Anselm  had  disavowed  it.  The  Char- 
trains,  John  of  Salisbury,  Alan  of  Lille,  either  ex- 
pressly oppose  it  or  show  by  their  writings  that  they 
reject  it.  Moreover,  the  speculative  theologians 
who  appeared  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury and  almost  immediately  formed  three  great 
schools — Abaelard,  Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  Hugo  of 
St.  Victor — condemned  the  timidity  of  the  "rigor- 
ists,"  and  the  apologetic  which  they  created  (of 
which  we  shall  speak  further  on)^^  is  an  effectual 
counterpoise  to  the  tendencies  of  Damien.  Peter 
Lombard  himself,  in  spite  of  his  practical  point  of 
view,  protests  against  such  excessive  pretensions. 
The  formula  is  condemned  by  the  majority  of  intel- 
lectual philosophers  and  theologians.  Hence  it  is 
very  unfair  to  judge  the  philosophers  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  by  the  doctrines  of  a  minority — and  that 
in  the  twelfth  century — against  which  the  best 
openly  rebel.  To  make  clear  the  origin  of  the 
formula,  that  philosophy  is  the  handmaiden  of  the- 

13  See  ch.  VII,  iv. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  53 

ology,  should  suffice  to  do  justice  in  the  matter. 
This  consideration  should  relieve  the  philosophy  of 
the  Middle  Ages  of  that  grave  contempt  which  has 
weighed  upon  it  so  long, — a  contempt  resting  upon 
the  belief  that  it  had  no  raison  d'etre,  no  proper 
method,  no  independence! 

To  say  that  philosophy,  by  the  twelfth  century, 
had  become  clearly  distinguished  from  the  liberal 
arts  on  the  one  hand  and  from  theology  on  the 
other  hand,  is  to  recognize  that  its  Jimits  were 
clearly  defined  and  that  it  had  become  conscious  of 
itself.  Now  this  great  first  step  in  organization 
had  been  made  simultaneously  by  other  sciences  as 
well,  and  they  were  thus  all  given  independence, 
though  in  different  degrees.  For  example,  there 
was  the  development  in  dogmatic  theology,  which 
progressed  rapidly,  as  we  have  just  said,  and 
spread  widely  in  the  great  schools  of  Abaelard,  of 
Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  of  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  and 
of  Peter  Lombard.  It  appeared  also  in  the  liberal 
arts,  of  which  one  branch  or  another  was  more  espe- 
cially studied  in  this  school  or  that;  for  example, 
grammar  at  Orleans  and  dialectics  at  Paris.  It 
was  evidenced,  moreover,  in  the  appearance  of 
medicine,  as  a  separate  discipline,  and  especially  of 
civil  (Roman)  and  canon  law.  Thus  the  impor- 
tant mental  disciplines,  on  which  the  thirteenth 
century  was  to  thrive,  had  asserted  their  indepen- 
dence and  intrinsic  worth. 

These  demarcations,  which  seem  to  us  so  natural 


54  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

and  matter  of  course,  have  come  at  the  cost  of  great 
effort  in  every  period  of  history  which  has  attempt- 
ed their  estabhshment — and  necessarily  so.  Thus 
the  first  Greek  philosophers  encountered  the  same 
difficulty  in  this  regard  as  did  the  scholastics  of  the 
twelfth  century.  Even  today,  when  classification 
is  so  far  advanced,  discussions  arise  in  fixing  the 
limits  of  new  sciences ;  witness  the  example  of  soci- 
ology. But  this  delimitation  of  philosophy  in  the 
twelfth  century  was  only  one  aspect  of  a  rapidly 
developing  civilization.  Do  we  not  see  a  similar 
movement  in  the  political,  the  social,  the  religious, 
and  the  artistic  life?  The  royal  prerogatives,  the 
rights  and  duties  of  vassals,  the  status  of  the  bour- 
geoisie and  of  the  rural  population,  the  distinction 
between  temporal  charge  and  spiritual  function  of 
abbots  and  prelates,  the  monastic  and  episcopal 
hierarchy,  the  clear  establishment  of  new  artistic 
standards, — all  of  these  are  features  of  an  epoch  in 
process  of  definition.  The  chaos  and  the  hesitation 
of  the  tenth  and  the  eleventh  centuries  have  disap- 
peared. The  new  era  exhibits  throughout  a  sense 
of  maturing  powers. 

Ill 

We  may  now  penetrate  more  deeply,  and  con- 
sider the  mass  of  philosophical  doctrines  which  is- 
sued out  of  the  efforts  of  the  twelfth  century.  As 
one  does  this,  one  cannot  help  noting  how  the  chief 
doctrines   of   the   developing   metaphysics   harmo- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  55 

nize  with  the  predominant  virtues  of  the  feudal 
spirit.  And  this  brings  us  to  our  third  point,  and 
indeed  the  most  interesting  one,  concerning  the  re- 
flection of  the  civilization  in  the  philosophy:  name- 
ly, the  harmony  of  the  feudal  sense  of  personal 
worth  with  the  philosophical  doctrine  of  the  reality 
of  the  individuaL 

The  feudal  man  was  athirst  for  independence, 
his  relations  with  his  overlord  being  determined  by 
free  contract;  moreover,  by  a  kind  of  contagion, 
the  desire  for  a  similar  independence  spread  to  the 
townspeople  and  to  the  rustic  population.  This 
natural  disposition  took  on  a  Christian  tone  by  vir- 
tue of  the  Church  teaching  concerning  the  value  of 
the  individual  life, — the  individual  soul  bought  at  a 
price.  It  was  according  to  this  humanitarian  prin- 
ciple that  Peter  the  Venerable  called  the  serfs  his 
brothers  and  sisters."^* 

Roman  civil  law  and  canon  law  and  feudal  law — 
the  three  forms  of  jurisprudence  which  developed 
so  rapidly  from  the  eleventh  century  onward — had 
come  to  remarkable  agreement  regarding  the  ex- 
istence of  natural  right;  and  in  the  name  of  this 
right,  based  on  human  nature,  they  had  proclaimed 
the  equality  of  all  men.  With  this  beginning,  they 
came  to  regard  all  differences  of  rank  as  conven- 
tional; and  slavery  and  serfdom  were  declared  to 
be  contrary  to  natural  law.  If,  however,  the  three 
forms  of  law  recognized  the  legitimacy  of  serfdom, 

14  See  above,  p.  36. 


56  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

it  was  because  of  the  special  conditions  of  the  time. 
Serfdom  was  considered  a  social  necessity.  Under 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  all  three  systems  of 
law  sought  to  mitigate  serfdom ;  and  this  was  espe- 
cially true  of  the  civil  lawyers  and  the  canonists, 
who  put  into  effect  a  series  of  measures  for  the 
benefit  of  the  serf,  which  guaranteed  the  indissolu- 
bility of  his  marriage,  assured  him  his  right  of 
sanctuary,  encouraged  his  emancipation,  and  pre- 
scribed rules  in  regard  to  his  ordination  and  his 
entry  into  a  monastery.  These  ideas  made  head- 
way,— slow,  to  be  sure,  but  steady — toward  that 
state  of  society  wherein  the  serf  could  be  set  free 
with  the  liberty  which  is  due  all  human  beings.^^ 
Now  the  scholastic  philosophy  of  the  twelfth 
century  based  these  juridical  declarations  upon 
metaphysical  foundations ;  and  they  came,  after  the 
many  centuries  of  discussion,  to  this  important  con- 
clusion— a  conclusion  no  longer  doubted — that  the 
only  existing  reality  is  individual  reality.  Indi- 
viduals alone  exist ;  and  only  individuals  ever  could 
exist.  The  thesis  was  general  in  its  application. 
Whether  man  or  animal  or  plant  or  chemical  body 
or  what  not,  a  being  must  exist  as  an  individual, 
incommunicable,  and  undivided  in  itself.  Simi- 
larly, everything  that  affects  an  existing  being  is 

15  For  the  conceptions  of  natural  right  and  of  serfdom  among 
the  feudal  theorists  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  see  Carlyle. 
A  History  of  Mediaeval  Political  Theory  in  the  West,  vol.  Ill,  Part 
II,  ch.  I;  among  the  civil  lawyers,  ibid.,  vol.  II,  Part  I,  ch.  IV; 
among  the  canonists,  ibid.,  vol.  II,  Part  II,  ch.  V. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  57 

particularized;  man's  act  of  thinking,  the  shape  of 
an  animal,  the  height  of  a  plant,  the  activity  of  a 
chemical  molecule, — everything  that  exists,  exists  in 
the  condition  of  particularity.  Scholastic  philoso- 
phy^ is  pluralistic;  it  regards  the  real  world  as  a 
collection  of  individuals  and  particulars/^ 

Individuality  when  applied  to  a  human  being  is 
called  personality.  Throughout  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury the  philosophers  are  unanimous  in  repeating 
the  words  of  Boethius:  persona  est  rationalis  na- 
turae individua  substantial'^ 

For  a  long  time,  the  schools  had  oscillated  be- 
tween the  extreme  realism  which  taught  with  Plato 
that  universal  essences,  such  as  humanity,  have  a 
real  existence,  and  the  anti-realism  which  denied 
the  existence  of  such  realities.  But  by  the  twelfth 
century  the  debate  had  been  closed  in  favor  of  anti- 
realism.  Notwithstanding  their  various  shades  of 
difference,^^  the  theory  of  respectus  advanced  by 
Adelard  of  Bath  in  Laon  and  in  Paris,  the  doctrine 
of  status  taught  by  Walter  of  Mortagne,  the  so- 
called  "indifference-theory"  and  the  "collection- 
theory"  reechoed  by  the  anonymous  author  of  the 
De  Generihus  et  Speciehus, — all  of  these  theories, 
mentioned  by  John  of  Salisbury  in  his  Metalogi- 
cus,^^  agree  in  maintaining  that  universal  essences 

i«  See  below,  Chapter  IX. 

17  Boethius,  De  dtiabus  naturis. 

18  Cf.  my  Hiatoire  de  la  Philosophie  Medievale,  pp.  217-221. 

19  II,  17. 


58  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

could  not  exist,  and  that  only  the  individual  pos- 
sesses real  existence. 

Hence,  the  human  perfection  which  constitutes 
human  reality  is  of  the  same  kind  in  each  person, — 
king  or  subject,  seigneur  or  vassal,  master  or  ser- 
vant, rich  or  poor,  these  all  have  a  similar  essence. 
The  reality  that  constitutes  the  human  person  ad- 
mits of  no  degrees.  According  to  scholastic  philos- 
ophy, a  being  is  either  man  or  not  man.  No  one 
man  can  be  more  or  less  man  than  another,  al- 
though each  of  us  possesses  more  or  less  powerful 
faculties  which  produce  more  or  less  perfect  acts.^° 
In  this  sense  Abaelard  and  Gilbert  de  la  Porree, 
and  scores  of  others,  agree  with  Peter  the  Venerable 
and  declare  in  philosophical  terms,  based  on  meta- 
physical principles,  that  "serfs  are  no  less  and  no 
more  human  beings  than  are  their  masters." 

But  Abaelard  went  a  step  further.  As  has  been 
only  recently  disclosed  by  the  important  discover}^ 
of  his  Glossulae  super  Porphyrium,"^  we  can  now 
say  definitely,  that  to  Abaelard  belongs  the  great 
credit  of  having  solved  the  problem  of  the  universal 
in  the  form  that  was  followed  throughout  the 
twelfth,  the  thirteenth,  and  the  fourteenth  centuries. 
Indeed,  to  the  metaphysical  doctrine,  Abaelard  adds 

20  See  ch.  IX. 

21  By  Grabmann  and  Geyer  in  the  libraries  of  Milan  and  Lunel. 
For  the  publication  of  this  important  text,  see  Bernhard  Geyer, 
"Peter  Abaelards  philosophische  Schriften.  I.  Die  Logica  Ingredi- 
entibus.  1.  Die  Glossen  zu  Porphyrius,"  (Beitrdge  zur  Geschichte 
der  Philosophie  des  Mittelalters,  Bd.  XXI,  Heft  1,  Miinster,  1919). 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  59 

the  psychological,  which  may  be  briefly  summar- 
ized as  follows:  Although  there  exist  only  individ- 
ual men,  although  each  one  is  independent  of  the 
other  in  his  existence,  the  mind  nevertheless  pos- 
sesses the  general  notion  of  humanity  which  belongs 
to  each  of  them;  but  this  form  of  generality  is  a 
product  of  our  conceptual  activity  and  does  not 
affect  the  real  existence.^^  Therewith  was  given  in 
compact  form  essentially  the  scholastic  solution  of 
the  famous  problem  of  the  relation  between  the  uni- 
versal and  the  particular. 

This  doctrine  had  grown  up  gradually,  and  its 
formation  runs  parallel  with  that  of  the  feudal 
sentiment.  Even  while  it  is  being  clearly  expressed 
in  the  various  philosophical  works,  the  feudal  feel- 
ing of  chivalry  appears  in  all  its  purity  and 
strength  in  the  Chansons  de  Geste.  The  most  ar- 
dent defenders  of  the  philosophical  solution  are  the 
sons  of  chevaliers, — the  impetuous  Abaelard,  heir 
of  the  seigneurs  of  Pallet;  Gilbert  de  la  Porree, 
bishop  of  Poitiers;  the  aristocratic  John  of  Salis- 
bury, who  writes  concerning  this  question:     "The 

22  "lUud  quoque  quod  supra  meminimus,  intellectus  scilicet  universa- 
lium  fieri  per  abstractionem  et  quomodo  eos  solos,  nudos,  puros  nee 
tamen  cassos  appelemus  .  .  ."  Edit.  Geyer,  pp.  24>  ff.  The  epistemo- 
logical  solution  appears  clearly  in  the  following  text:  "Cum  enim 
hunc  hominem  tantum  attendo  in  natura  substantiae  vel  corporis,  non 
etiam  animalis  vel  hominis  vel  grammatici,  profecto  nihil  nisi  quod 
in  ea  est  intelligo,  sed  non  omnia  quae  habet,  attendo.  Et  cum  dico 
me  attendere  tantum  eam  in  eo  quod  hoc  habet,  illud  tantum  ad  at- 
tentionem  refertur,  non  ad  modum  subsistendi,  alioquin  cassus  asset 
intellectus."    Ibid.,  p.  25. 


60  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

world  has  grown  old  treating  of  it,  and  has  taken 
more  time  for  its  solution  than  the  Caesars  took  to 
conquer  and  govern  the  world. "^^ 

The  great  scholastics  of  the  thirteenth  century 
will  appropriate  this  doctrine  to  their  purposes, 
bringing  it  into  harmony  with  psychology  and 
ethics  and  social  and  political  theories;  and  they 
will  incorporate  it  in  that  great  synthesis  which  is 
the  most  commanding  product  of  the  mediaeval 
mind, — that  is,  scholasticism. 

To  sum  up.  The  twelfth  century  witnesses  a 
new  civilization  established  in  a  striking  form.  The 
struggles  of  kings  with  vassals,  the  coming  of  the 
communes,  the  establishment  of  citizenship,  the 
freedom  of  the  serfs, — all  of  these  facts  are  evi- 
dence that  the  balance  is  being  established  among 
social  forces.  New  habits,  based  upon  the  dignity 
and  the  self-respect  of  the  individual,  were  born  out 
of  feudalism,  and  the  Church  impressed  upon  them 
the  stamp  of  Christianity.  A  new  art  springs  into 
life,  and  intellectual  culture  makes  noteworthy 
progress.  The  spirit  of  localism,  which  was  the 
result  of  split-up  feudalism,  breaks  out  in  the  nu- 
merous schools  of  the  West;  and  herein  appears 
first  the  reflection  of  the  age  in  its  philosophy.  The 
demarcation  of  boundaries  between  philosophy  and 
all  other  disciplines  discloses  a  further  harmony  be- 
tween its  philosophy  and  the  general  spirit  of  the 
age, — an  age  which  constructs  in  all  departments 

2S  Polycraticus,  VII,  12. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  61 

and  destroys  in  none.  Finally,  the  fundamental 
quality  of  feudalism  is  reflected  in  one  of  the  chief 
doctrines  of  their  metaphysics:  the  self-sufficiency 
of  the  individual,  whether  thing  or  person,  is  pro- 
claimed in  the  schools  of  France  and  of  England; 
and 'the  French  and  the  English  have  never  for- 
gotten this  proud  declaration  of  their  ancestors,  the 
scholastics  of  the  twelfth  century. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

The  Great  Awakening  of  Philosophy  in  the 
Thirteenth  Century 

i.  The  causes :  The  acquired  momentum,  ii.  The  rise  of  the 
Universities  (Paris  and  Oxford),  iii.  The  establishment  of 
the  mendicant  orders  (Dominicans  and  Franciscans),  iv.  The 
acquaintance  with  new  philosophical  works;  translations,  v. 
General  result:  among  the  numerous  systems  the  scholastic 
philosophy  issues  as  dominant,  vi.  The  comprehensive  classi- 
fication of  knowledge. 


It  is  now  generally  agreed,  that  the  thirteenth 
century  marks  the  climax  in  the  growth  of  philo- 
sophical thought  in  western  Europe  during  the 
Middle  Ages.  With  the  decade  1210-1220  begins 
a  development  of  extraordinary  vitality  which  ex- 
tends over  a  period  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  years. 
Let  us  examine  the  causes  and  the  results  of  this 
movement  of  thought. 

What  are  the  causes  of  this  remarkable  develop- 
ment of  philosophical  thought?  How  does  it  hap- 
pen that  we  see  the  appearance  of  so  many  vigor- 
ous systems,  as  though  the  seed  had  been  thrown 
with  lavish  hand  upon  the  fertile  soil  of  western 
Europe? 

62 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  63 

The  first  cause  is  what  I  shall  call  the  acquired 
momentum.  The  intellectual  labours  of  the  twelfth 
century  gave  the  initial  impulse.  We  have  already 
observed  some  of  their  achievements;  for  example, 
their  contributions  in  methodology,  by  which  the 
limits  of  each  science  and  discipline  were  estab- 
lished, and  without  which  no  intellectual  progress 
would  have  been  possible.  We  have  noted  also  the 
deliberate  and  unanimous  declaration,  that  the  indi- 
vidual alone  can  be  endowed  with  actual  existence 
and  substantiality.  To  the  individual  man, — lord 
or  vassal,  freeman  or  serf,  clergyman  or  layman, 
rich  or  poor — philosophy  spoke  these  bold  words: 
"Be  yourself;  your  personality  belongs  only  to 
yourself,  your  substance  is  an  independent  value; 
keep  it ;  be  self-reliant ;  free  contract  alone  can  bind 
you  to  another  man." 

There  are  many  other  philosophical  theories 
which  the  twelfth  century  contributed  to  later  gen- 
erations. Among  them  are  the  distinction  between 
sense  perception  and  rational  knowledge,  and  the 
"abstraction"  of  the  latter  from  the  former;  the 
many  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God,  the  studies  in 
his  Infinitude,  and  the  essays  in  reconciling  Provi- 
dence and  human  freedom ;  the  relation  between  es- 
sence and  existence ;  the  views  on  the  natural  equal- 
ity of  men  and  the  divine  origin  of  authority.  But 
these  doctrines  had  not  been  combined  into  an  inte- 
gral whole;  and  therefore  the  philosophers  of  the 


64  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

thirteenth  century  used  them  as  material  in  the  con- 
struction of  their  massive  edifice  of  knowledge. 

But  not  alone  in  philosophy  was  the  growth  ex- 
traordinary and  the  ripening  rapid;  the  same  was 
true  of  all  domains.  The  constitution  of  the 
Magna  Charta  (1215),  the  granting  of  privileges 
by  Philip  Augustus  to  the  University  of  Paris,  the 
birth  of  St.  Louis  and  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  the 
death  of  St.  Francis, — these  are  all  events  closely 
coinciding  in  time;  and  the  height  of  development 
in  scholastic  philosophy  followed  closely  upon  the 
height  of  development  in  Gothic  architecture. 

The  best  proof,  however,  of  the  value  of  the  work 
already  accomplished  lies  in  the  very  celerity  of  the 
development  during  the  thirteenth  century ;  for  the 
succeeding  generations  of  that  century  took  swift 
advantage  of  the  favourable  conditions  which  had 
already  been  created  for  them.  Thus,  a  few  years 
after  these  happy  conditions  obtained,  that  is  about 
1226-30,  William  of  Auvergne,  bishop  of  Paris, 
and  the  Franciscan  Alexander  of  Hales  conceived 
their  great  systems  of  thought;  and  then  almost 
immediately  there  appeared  such  men  as  Roger 
Bacon,  Bonaventure,  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  Ray- 
mond Lully.  What  they  did  would  not  have  been 
possible  if  their  age  had  not  been  prepared  to  ac- 
cept their  work, — a  preparation  already  assured  in 
the  twelfth  century  leaven  of  doctrine,  with  its 
promise  of  growth  and  of  increase. 

But  there  were  also  external  causes  which  hast- 


IN   THE  MIDDLE  AGES  65 

ened  this  elaboration  of  doctrine.  Among  these 
there  are  three  to  be  especially  noted.  Namely,  the 
rise  of  the  University  of  Paris;  the  establishment 
of  the  two  great  religious  orders,  both  of  them  de- 
voted to  learning;  and  the  circulation  of  a  large 
number  of  new  philosophical  works,  which  were 
brought  from  the  Orient  and  which  had  been  un- 
known to  the  Occident  before  that  time  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  These  three  causes  cooperated  in  a 
unique  manner.  For,  the  University  of  Paris  was 
the  centre  of  learning;  the  new  orders  supplied  the 
same  University  with  professors;  and  the  books 
brought  from  the  Orient  made  a  notable  increase  in 
its  working  library. 

II 

During  the  last  years  of  the  twelfth  century,  the 
French  metropolis  monopolized,  to  its  advantage, 
the  intellectual  activity  which  previously  had  been 
scattered  in  the  various  French  centers.  The  Uni- 
versity eclipsed  the  episcopal  and  monastic  schools, 
and  thereby  replaced  the  spirit  of  localism  with  that 
of  centralization  in  study.^ 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century  the 
schools  of  Paris  were  divided  into  three  groups:  (a) 
the  schools  of  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  under 
the  authority  of  the  chancellor  and,  through  him,  of 

1  See  Rashdall's  excellent  work:  The  Universities  of  Europe  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  Oxford,  Clarendon  Press,  1895.  Cf.  H.  Denifle,  Die 
Universitdten  des  Mittelalters  bis  I4OO,  Berlin,  1885. 


66  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

the  bishop  of  Paris;  (b)  the  schools  of  the  canons 
of  St.  Victor,  which  had  become  the  throbbing  cen- 
tre of  mysticism,  but  where  also  William  of  Cham- 
peaux  had  opened  a  school  in  which  he  had  been 
teaching  philosophy  for  some  time;  (c)  the  outside 
schools  of  the  abbey  of  St.  Genevieve.  But  the 
schools  of  Notre  Dame  occupied  the  foremost  place, 
and  it  was  from  them  that  the  University  sprang. 
It  arose  not  indeed  through  a  decree  of  the  govern- 
ment or  a  committee  of  trustees,  but  as  a  flower 
grows  from  its  stem,  by  a  natural  convening  of 
masters  and  pupils;  for  their  number  had  multi- 
plied as  a  result  of  the  constant  development  of 
studies.  Masters  and  pupils  were  grouped  in  four 
faculties  according  to  their  special  interests — the 
University  documents  compare  them  to  the  four 
rivers  of  Paradise,  just  as  the  iconography  of  the 
cathedrals  symbolically  represents  the  four  evange- 
lists as  pouring  water  from  urns  toward  the  four 
points  of  the  compass.  These  are  the  faculties  of 
Theology,  of  Arts  (thus  called  in  memory  of  the 
liberal  arts  of  the  early  Middle  Ages) ,  of  Law,  and 
of  Medicine. 

The  program  of  studies  in  the  University  is  a 
living  and  moving  thing.  It  takes  form  in  the 
second  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  at  that 
moment  it  is  revealed  in  great  purity  of  outline,  like 
something  new  and  fresh,  a  distinctive  and  pleas- 
ing product  of  the  Middle  Ages.  If  one  should 
take,  as  it  were,  a  snap-shot  of  the  faculty  of  arts — 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  67 

or  of  philosophy — as  it  was  about  1270,  he  would 
find  that  it  is  entirely  distinct  from  the  other  fac- 
ulties, even  from  that  of  theology,  as  in  our  own 
day.  But  the  studies  under  its  control  fill  a  very 
special  place  in  the  University  economy,  because 
they  are  the  usual,  or  even  required,  preliminary  to 
studies  in  the  other  faculties.  They  have  a  forma- 
tive and  preparatory  character,  and  for  this  reason 
the  faculty  of  arts  appears  in  the  documents  with 
the  title  of  inferior  faculty,  facultas  inferior,  in  dis- 
tinction from  the  three  other  faculties  which  are 
placed  over  it  and  hence  are  called  superior,  facili- 
tates superiores.^  On  this  account  the  student  popu- 
lation of  the  faculty  of  arts  was  young  and  numer- 
ous, a  population  of  adolescents — pueri,  the  char- 
ters say.  They  entered  at  fourteen  years ;  at  twenty 
they  might  have  finished  their  course  in  arts  and 
graduated.  Then  usually  they  entered  another  fac- 
ulty. But  they  had  received  the  imprint  of  their 
masters ;  and  the  impressions  given  by  philosophical 
teaching  are  indelible,  be  it  remembered.  On  their 
side  the  masters  or  professors  of  the  faculty  of  arts, 
recruited  from  among  the  graduates  in  arts  by  a 
curious  custom  of  which  we  will  speak  in  a  moment, 
also  constituted  the  youthful,  and  therefore  stir- 
ring, element  in  the  teaching  staff. 

It  is  easy  to  distinguish  in  the  faculty  of  arts  the 
two  main  features  which  characterize  the  entiie 

2  Denifle    et   Chatelain,   Chartularium    Universitatis   Parisiensis,    I, 
p.  600. 


68  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

University:  the  corporate  spirit  and  the  extension 
of  instruction.  The  University  as  a  whole  is  a  cor- 
poration, or  group  of  masters  and  scholars.  It 
is  even  nothing  but  that ;  the  word  ''universitas''  is 
taken  from  the  Roman  law  and  means  corporation 
or  group;  and  the  mediaeval  period  applies  this 
term  to  every  kind  of  grouping,  to  the  city,  to  the 
parish,  even  to  the  universal  Church;  while  docu- 
ments name  the  University  proper,  a  general  centre 
of  studies, — ''studium  generalef  The  corporation 
idea  appears  therefore  in  the  organization  of  facul- 
ties, and  gives  to  the  faculty  of  arts  or  philosophy 
a  characteristic  meaning.  It  includes  masters  and 
apprentices.  Indeed,  the  student  at  Paris  is  an 
apprentice-professor,  a  candidate  for  the  master- 
ship. His  career  is  normally  crowned,  not  by  re- 
ceiving a  diploma — which  is  simply  the  recognition 
of  knowledge — but  by  teaching  in  the  corporation 
of  his  masters.  The  studies,  too,  constitute  simply 
a  long  apprenticeship  for  the  mastership  or  the  pro- 
fessorship. He  becomes  a  professor  by  doing  the 
work  of  a  professor,  as  a  blacksmith  becomes  a 
blacksmith  by  forging.  Indeed,  the  whole  situa- 
tion strongly  resembles  the  organization  of  work- 
men, of  stonecutters  and  masons,  who  about  this 
time  were  building  and  carving  the  great  cathedrals 
of  France.  They,  too,  had  their  working-men's  syn- 
dicates; and  professional  schools  were  organized  in 
their  midst.  The  apprenticed  workman  was  sub- 
jected to  a  severe  and  long  initiation,  and  worked 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  69 

under  the  direction  of  a  master.  To  become  master 
in  his  turn,  he  must  produce  a  work  judged  worthy 
and  called  a  masterjnece.  The  process  was  none 
other  for  the  future  professors  of  philosophy  at 
the  University  of  Paris. 

Ouring  his  six  years  of  attendance,  the  pupil 
cleared  the  three  stages  of  baccalaureate  (baccha- 
laureus),  licentiate  (licentiatus) ,  and  mastership 
(magister).  But  the  tests  for  the  baccalaureate 
had  already  included  an  attempt  at  public  lecture. 
After  the  new  member  had  been  subjected  to  some 
preliminary  examinations  {responsiones  et  eoo- 
amen),  he  was  required  to  mount  a  platform,  and 
invited  to  defend  a  systematically  prepared  thesis — 
a  process  which  sometimes  lasted  all  through  Lent 
— and  to  answer  the  objections  of  those  present. 
This  public  defense  was  called  determination  and 
the  student  left  it  as  a  bachelor, — a  term  which  was 
employed  by  the  corporation  of  workmen  in  a 
special  sense,  the  bachelors  being  "those  who  have 
passed  as  masters  in  the  art  but  who  have  not  been 
sworn  in."  The  examination  for  the  baccalaureate 
is  surrounded  with  the  corporate  ceremonial  so  dear 
to  the  thirteenth  century.  The  student  puts  on  a 
special  cap.  Then,  the  seance  ended,  wine  is  served 
and  a  banquet  arranged.  Youth  is  everywhere  the 
same — the  great  days  of  university  life  must  be 
gaily  celebrated.  Between  the  baccalaureate  and 
licentiate  there  was  a  period  of  variable  length,  dur- 
ing which  the  bachelor  was  at  once  student  and  ap  • 


70  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

prentice-professor.  As  student,  he  followed  the 
master's  lessons  and  continued  to  acquire  knowl- 
edge; as  apprentice-professor,  he  himself  explained 
to  others  certain  books  of  Aristotle's  Organon, 
When  his  term  of  six  years  had  rolled  around  and 
he  had  reached  his  nineteenth  or  twentieth  year, 
the  bachelor  could  present  himself  before  the  chan- 
cellor to  be  admitted  to  the  licentiate.  Cerernonies 
multiply:  thus,  the  new  examination  to  be  under- 
gone before  some  of  the  professors  of  the  faculty 
(temptatores) ,  and  then  before  the  chancellor  as- 
sisted by  four  examiners  chosen  by  him  and  ap- 
proved by  the  faculty;  the  public  discussion  at 
St.-Julien-le-Pauvre  upon  a  subject  left  to  the 
choice  of  the  bachelor;  and  finally,  amid  great 
pomp,  the  conferring  of  the  long-coveted  right  to 
teach  and  to  open  his  own  school. 

There  was  still  the  third  step  to  be  taken — the. 
mastership;  and  here  we  are  taken  back  to  the 
purest  conceptions  of  the  mediaeval  corporation. 
The  mastership  is  the  enthroning  of  the  newly  li- 
censed member  before  the  faculty  or  society  of 
masters — that  close  organization,  so  jealous  of  its 
monopoly,  to  which  one  had  access  only  through  the 
agreement  of  all  the  members,  and  after  having 
given  a  pledge  of  fidelity  to  the  rector  and  to  the 
faculty  which  bound  the  master  for  life. 

The  mastership  was  in  principle  a  ft^ee  profes- 
sion, with  no  rules  except  the  rules  applying  to  the 
organization  as  a  whole,  and  with  no  limit  upon  the 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  71 

number  of  the  members.  In  consequence  of  this 
arrangement,  there  was  a  great  increase  in  the 
teaching  profession.  The  right  to  teach  could  not 
be  withheld  from  any  student  who  had  completed 
the  regular  course  of  studies;  and  the  number  of 
masters  of  arts  incorporated  in  the  faculty  was 
theoretically  unlimited.  We  readily  recognize  cer- 
tain characteristic  features  in  this  system  of  uni- 
versity instruction  of  the  thirteenth  century:  free 
competition  in  teaching  among  all  those  who  have 
taken  their  degree;  freedom  of  the  students  who 
have  become  doctors,  or  "masters,"  to  open  schools 
beside  their  former  masters;  and  freedom  of  the 
students  to  select  their  own  masters, — the  clearest 
in  exposition,  the  most  eloquent  in  delivery,  the 
most  profound  in  thought — entirely  according  to 
choice. 

This  freedom  in  the  teaching  career  was  reflected 
in  the  teaching  itself, — in  the  spirit  and  action  of 
the  masters.  There  was  really  great  freedom  of 
thought  and  of  speech  in  the  thirteenth  century, — 
notwithstanding  what  is  now  commonly  believed  on 
this  subject.  A  very  striking  example  may  be 
taken  from  the  end  of  the  century,  in  the  person 
of  the  philosopher  Godfrey  of  Fontaines, — who  was 
also  a  "Doctor  in  Theology."  From  the  teacher's 
chair, — and  aware  of  his  privilege  and  responsibil- 
ity— he  directs  the  severest  criticism  against  his  su- 


72  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

perior,  the  Bishop  of  Paris,  Simon  of  Bucy.^  He 
justifies  his  audacity  by  invoking  the  principle  that 
a  Doctor  of  the  University  is  bound  to  declare  the 
truth,  however  his  speech  may  offend  the  rich  and 
the  powerful.  "Few  there  are  to  be  found,"  he 
says,  "who  can  be  blamed  for  excess  of  frankness; 
but  many  indeed  for  their  silence."  Pauci  inveni- 
untur  qui  culpari  possunt  de  excessu  in  veritate  di- 
cenda,  plurimi  vero  de  taciturnitate.^  One  could 
cite  many  more  examples  of  this  great  freedom  of 
speech  among  the  masters ;  the  University  sermons 
especially  are  full  of  it.^ 

Although  the  University  of  Paris  possessed  four 
faculties,  it  was  especially  famous  for  its  teaching 
of  philosophy  and  theology,  just  as  Bologna,  the 
twin  sister  of  Paris,  was  famed  for  its  juridical 
learning.  Paris  outstripped  by  far  the  University 
of  Oxford,  which  was  its  only  rival  in  this  particu- 
lar field.^     Thus  Paris  became  the  philosophical 

3  For  details  see  my  study  of  Godfrey  of  Fontaines;  Etudes  sur  la 
vie,  les  oeuvres  et  Vinfluence  de  Oodefroid  de  Fontaines,  Louvain, 
1904. 

4  Godefridi  de  Fontibus  Quodlibeta,  XII,  q.  vi,  (fol.  278  Rb),  Latin 
MS.  No.  15842,  Bibl.  Nat.  I  am  editing  these  Quodlibeta,  with  the 
aid  of  former  pupils;  three  volumes  have  appeared  (in  the  series: 
Les  Philosophes  Beiges,  vols.  II  and  III,  Louvain,  1904  and  1914), 
and  two  or  three  more  will  follow. 

5  See,  for  example,  C.  Langlois :  "Sermons  parisiens  de  la  pre- 
miere moiti^  du  Xlll'e  s.  contenus  dans  le  Ms  691  de  la  Bibl.  d' Ar- 
ras" {Journal  des  Savants,  1916,  pp.  488  and  548). 

6  Many  other  universities  were  established  on  the  model  of  Paris 
and  Bologna;  for  instance,  Cambridge,  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  Sala- 
manca, Valladolid,  Naples, — all  of  the  thirteenth  century. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  73 

centre  of  the  West,  the  international  "rendez-vous" 
for  all  those  who  were  interested  in  speculative 
thought, — and  their  name  was  legion.  By  way  of 
glorifying  this  philosophical  speculation  at  the 
University,  the  documents  refer  to  Paris  in  the 
most  pompous  terms :  parens  scientiarum,  the  alma 
mater  of  the  sciences;  sapientiae  fons,  fountain  of 
wisdom,  that  is,  the  fountain  of  philosophy. 

Paris  drew  to  itself  an  endless  stream  of 
strangers  interested  in  these  subjects.  During  the 
thirteenth  century  all  of  those  who  have  a  name  in 
philosophy  or  in  theology  come  here,  sooner  or 
later,  for  a  more  or  less  prolonged  sojourn.  Ital- 
ians such  as  Bonaventure,  Thomas  Aquinas,  Peter 
of  Tarantaise,  Gilles  of  Rome,  James  of  Viterbo, 
meet  with  masters  from  German  provinces  such  as 
Albert  the  Great,  Ulric  of  Strasburg,  Thierrj^  of 
Freiburg.  From  the  region  of  Flanders  or  from 
the  Walloon  country  come  Gauthier  of  Bruges, 
Siger  of  Brabant,  Henry  of  Ghent,  Godfrey  of 
Fontaines,  and  they  meet  Danes,  such  as  Boethius 
the  Dacian,  and  especially  the  English  masters, 
such  as  Stephen  Langton,  Michael  Scot,  Alfred 
Anglicus  (of  Sereshel),  William  of  Meliton,  Alex- 
ander of  Hales,  Richard  of  Middleton,  Roger 
Bacon,  Robert  Kilwardby,  Walter  Burleigh,  Duns 
Scotus  and  William  of  Occam.  Spain  also  is  rep- 
resented by  notable  men,  such  as  Peter  of  Spain, 
Cardinal  Ximenes  of  Toledo,  and  Raymond  Lully. 
Indeed,  one  can  count  on  one's  fingers  the  philoso- 


74  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

phers  of  the  thirteenth  century  who  were  not  trained 
at  Paris,  such  as  the  Silesian  Witelo  or  Robert 
Grosseteste,  the  organizer  of  the  University  of  Ox 
ford, — and  even  the  latter  was  indirectly  influenced 
by  Paris.  All  of  these  strangers  mingle  with  the 
masters  of  French  origin,  William  of  Auxerre, 
Bernard  of  Auvergne,  William  of  St.  Amour,  Wil- 
liam of  Auvergne,  bishop  of  Paris,  John  of  La 
Rochelle,  and  Vincent  of  Beauvais.  From  their 
midst  are  recruited  the  artificers  of  that  great  cos- 
mopolitan philosophy  which  is  to  mould  the  minds 
of  the  educated  classes. 

Ill 

The  vigorous  growth  of  the  philosophical  and 
theological  schools  of  Paris  was  singularly  quick- 
ened by  the  rise  of  the  two  new  religious  orders, — 
the  Dominicans  and  the  Franciscans — and  by  their 
incorporation  in  the  University.  This  stimulus 
was  so  important  that  it  justifies  treating  these  or- 
ders as  a  further  cause  of  the  rapid  development  of 
philosophy  in  the  thirteenth  century. 

The  Benedictine  monasteries  had  fallen  into  de- 
cline, chiefly  through  excess  of  wealth  which  had 
finally  weakened  their  austerity.  Francis  of  Assisi 
and  Dominic,  who  founded  the  two  celebrated  or- 
ders of  Franciscans  and  Dominicans  at  about  the 
same  time,  effected  a  return  to  evangelical  poverty 
by  forbidding  the  possession  of  this  world's  goods, — 
not  only  to  each  of  their  disciples,  but  also  to  the 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  75 

religious  communities  themselves.  Hence  their 
name  of  "mendicant"  orders;  and  Francis,  called 
//  poverino,  spoke  of  poverty  as  his  bride.  It  was 
because  they  wished  to  preach  to  the  multitudes 
and  to  mingle  more  intimately  in  public  and  social 
life*that  the  Franciscans  and  the  Dominicans  estab- 
lished themselves  in  the  town,  whilst  the  Benedic- 
tines and  the  Carthusians  had  settled  in  the  country. 
At  the  same  time  the  Dominicans  and  the  Fran- 
ciscans were  not  slow  in  forming  an  intellectual 
elite.  For  both  orders,  each  in  its  own  way,  fos- 
tered learning  in  their  members;  and  so  they  be- 
came, almost  on  the  day  of  their  inception,  nurseries 
of  philosophers  and  theologians.  It  is  really  very 
wonderful  to  follow  the  intense  intellectual  life 
which  is  developed  in  the  midst  of  these  vast  corpo- 
rations of  workers.  Hardly  are  they  founded  be- 
fore they  establish  themselves  at  Paris,  in  1217  and 
1219  respectively;  they  create  in  the  young  Uni- 
versity centre  separate  establishments  of  advanced 
studies,  ''studia  generalia/'  for  their  own  members. 
But  at  the  same  time,  they  are  engaged  in  incorpo- 
rating themselves  in  the  intellectual  life  of  the  Uni- 
versity, by  obtaining  chairs  in  the  faculty  of  The- 
ology. Fortune  favoured  the  rapid  rise  of  the  or- 
ders in  the  University  faculty.  In  1229  a  strike  of 
the  secular  professors,  at  the  schools  of  Notre 
Dame,  gave  them  their  initial  opportunity.  The 
voice  of  Parisian  learning  had  become  silent,  as  the 
documents  put  it, — in  omni  facultate  diet  Parisien- 


76  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

sis  vooo  doctrinae.  At  this  juncture  the  Dominicans 
and  the  Franciscans  offered  their  services  to  the 
chancellor,  and  they  were  accepted.  When  later 
the  strike  was  concluded,  the  orders  succeeded  in 
maintaining  themselves  in  the  faculty  of  Theology, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  from  the  other  members 
of  the  faculty.  The  Dominicans  had  obtained  two 
chairs  (one  in  1229  and  one  in  1231),  and  at  the 
same  time  the  Franciscans  had  secured  a  chair,  of 
which  Alexander  of  Hales  was  the  first  incumbent. 
The  burning  fever  for  work  and  the  need  of  re- 
considering doctrine,  in  the  hght  of  the  new  philoso- 
phies brought  from  Arabia  and  Spain  and  Byzan- 
tium, created  among  the  Franciscans  and  the 
Dominicans  a  unique  spirit  of  emulation  and  served 
as  a  spur  to  zealous  discussion.  In  every  branch  of 
their  activities  and  in  every  country  the  rivalry  be- 
tween the  two  great  orders  breaks  out.  In  religious 
matters,  they  discuss  the  merits  of  their  respective 
ideals;  in  matters  of  art,  their  best  artists  glorify 
the  remarkable  men  of  their  own  orders, — thus,  fol- 
lowing a  capricious  impulse  intelligible  in  artists, 
the  Dominican  Fra  Angelico  shows  in  his  pictures 
of  the  Last  Judgment  certain  Franciscans  tumb- 
ling toward  hell,  while  the  Dominicans  are  received 
into  heaven!  But  nowhere  are  they  more  eager  to 
surpass  each  other  than  in  the  realms  of  philosophy 
and  theology.  Those  who  would  hold  back  are 
shaken  from  their  torpor;  thus,  in  the  vigorous 
though  rude  style  of  the  day,  Albert  the  Great 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  77 

speaks  of  the  reactionaries  of  his  order  as  "stupid 
animals  who  blaspheme  philosophy  without  under- 
standing it."^  In  1284  the  Franciscan  John  Peck- 
ham, — who  reminds  one  of  Roger  Bacon,  in  his  im- 
pulsive character  and  in  his  tendency  to  exagger- 
ate-^—writes  to  the  Chancellor  of  the  University  as 
follows:  "Certain  brothers  of  the  Dominican  order 
boast  that  the  teaching  of  truth  has  a  higher  place 
of  honor  among  them  than  in  any  other  existing 
order."^ 

On  the  other  hand,  a  certain  blind  rivalry  per- 
sists between  the  "regulars"  (those  subjects  to 
Dominican  or  Franciscan  rule),  and  those  who  call 
themselves  "secular"  teachers  (seculares) .  The 
latter  could  not  conceal  their  animosity  toward 
their  monkish  colleagues :  and  the  University  writ- 
ings of  the  period  are  full  of  the  quarrels  which  re- 
sulted. Thus,  as  Dominicans  and  Franciscans  op- 
posed each  other  on  points  of  doctrine,  the  seculars 
reveal  their  malice  by  comparing  the  twin  orders  to 
Jacob  and  Esau  who  quarreled  in  the  very  womb 
of  their  mother.  However,  these  twin  brothers  ac- 
complished great  things,  and  Roger  Bacon,  the  en- 
fant terrible  of  his  time,  in  spite  of  his  quarrels  with 
his  fellow  friars  could  not  refrain  from  writing  in 

7 ".  .  .  tanquam  bruta  animalia  blasphemantia  in  iis  quae  igno- 
rant," In  Epist.  Beati  Dionysii  Areopagitae,  Epist.  VIII,  No.  2. 

8  "Quidam  fratres  ejusdem  ordinis  praedicatorum  ausi  sunt  se 
publice  jactitari  doctrinam  veritatis  plus  in  suo  ordine  quam  in  alio 
contemporaneo  viguisse."  Epistola  ad  cancellarium.  Oxon.,  Decemb., 
1284. 


78  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

1271,  with  his  usual  exaggeration,  that  in  forty 
years  no  "secular"  had  written  anything  of  any 
value  either  in  Philosophy  or  in  Theology/ 

IV 

The  extreme  fondness  for  philosophy,  however, 
which  appears  in  the  University  of  Paris  during  the 
thirteenth  century,  is  explained  only  in  part  by  the 
acquired  momentum,  the  influx  of  foreigners  to 
Paris,  the  place  given  to  philosophy  and  theology 
in  the  program  of  studies,  and  the  feverish  activity 
of  the  impressive  Dominican  and  Franciscan  cor- 
porations with  their  remarkable  masters.  In  addi- 
tion, and  finally,  we  must  consider  the  introduction 
of  new  philosophical  texts,  which  served  as  food 
for  individual  reflection  and  for  discussion  and  for 
writing. 

It  is  hard  for  us  adequately  to  realize  what  this 
enrichment  must  have  meant  at  that  time.  The 
great  treatises  of  Aristotle, — his  Metaphysics,  his 
Physics,  his  Treatise  on  the  Soul,  works  of  which 
doctors  had  spoken  for  five  hundred  years,  but 
which  no  westerner  had  read  since  the  days  of 
Boethius — were  brought  to  them  from  Greece  and 
from  Spain.  Neo-Platonic  works  were  added  to 
these, — principally  the  ''Liber  de  Causis/'  written 
by  a  compiler  of  Proclus,  and  the  ''Elementa  The- 
ologiae"  of  Proclus  himself.  Henceforth  the  West 
knows  the  best  that  Greek  thought  had  produced, 

9  Compendium  Studii,  cap.  V,  ed.  Brewer  p.  428. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  79 

Nor  is  that  all.  Along  with  these  works,  the  Paris- 
ian doctors  receive  a  vast  number  of  commentaries, 
made  by  the  Arabs  of  Bagdad  and  of  Spain.  Fi- 
nally, they  also  come  into  possession  of  a  large  col- 
lection of  Arabian  and  Jewish  works,  having  their 
sources  in  Alfarabi,  Avicenna,  Averroes,  Avice- 
bron,  not  to  mention  others. 

All  of  these  riches,  in  Latin  translation,  were 
brought  to  Paris,  to  France,  to  England,  to  Italy, 
to  Germany ;  and  the  study  and  evaluation  of  these 
translations  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  and  far- 
reaching  problems  connected  with  the  history  of 
that  age.  In  the  last  century,  work  on  this  great 
problem  was  begun  by  eminent  scholars;  nor  can 
we  even  now  say  that  it  is  solved.  Will  it  ever  be 
solved?  For,  it  continually  enlarges  as  further  in- 
sight into  it  is  gained.  But  results  have  been  ob- 
tained; and  within  recent  years  specialists  of  all 
nationalities  have  taken  the  work  in  hand.^" 

We  get  some  idea  of  the  difficulties,  with  which 
these  scholars  have  to  deal,  when  we  recall  that  the 
work  of  translation  was  accomplished  in  a  century 
and  a  half;  that  the  Latin  translations  were  made 
from  Greek  works,  pseudo-Greek  works,  and  books 
of  the  Jews  and  Arabs ;  that  the  Greek  works  were 

9=*  Menendez  y  Pelayo  in  Spain,  Marchesi  in  Italy,  Vacant  in 
France,  Mandonnet  in  Switzerland,  Little  in  England,  Charles  Ras- 
kins at  Harvard,  Pelzer  in  Rome,  besides  a  number  of  Germans 
(such  as  Rose,  Wiistenfeld  and  Grabmann). 


80  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

nearly  all  twice  translated  into  Latin  and  in  two 
different  ways,  the  one  including  the  direct  transla- 
tions from  the  Greek  and  the  other  the  translations 
by  a  sort  of  cascade  of  intermediate  languages 
(Arabic  and  Hebrew  and  even  the  vernacular)  ; 
and,  finally,  that  it  was  carried  on  in  three  main 
centres, — in  Greece  itself,  in  the  Greek  speaking 
countries  of  southern  Italy  (The  Sicilies),  and  in 
Spain.  Often  the  same  work  was  translated  many 
times  and  at  different  places;  many  were  anony- 
mous or  undated. 

Through  the  three  great  frontiers  raised  between 
West  and  East — Spain,  Byzantium,  Sicily — the 
influence  of  these  ideas  is  set  in  motion;  but  it  is 
especially  through  Spain  that  the  influx  is  the 
greatest.  It  is  at  Toledo,  indeed,  the  most  ad- 
vanced post  of  Christianity,  and  where  the  kings  of 
Castille  are  contending  against  the  ever-menacing 
invasion  of  the  Mussulmans,  that  Christian  civiliza- 
tion gives  welcome  to  the  science  and  philosophy 
and  art  of  the  Arabs.  There,  in  the  Archbishop's 
palace,  was  founded  a  college  of  translators  who, 
for  three-quarters  of  a  century,  carried  on  this 
formidable  task,  and  indeed  to  a  happy  conclusion. 
Englishmen,  Italians,  Frenchmen,  and  Germans 
worked  side  by  side  with  Jews  and  christianized 
Arabs,  under  the  encouragement  and  stimulus  of 
the  two  learned  Archbishops,   whose   names   are 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


81 


worthy  of  being  engraved  on  tablets  of  bronze, — 
Raymond  of  Toledo  and  Rodriguez  Ximenes. 

The  actual  acquisition  of  so  much  new  knowledge 
was  made  by  the  masters  of  Paris  in  comparatively 
rapid  stages.  Its  elaboration,  however,  took  longer. 
The  first  who  came  in  touch  with  it  were  dazed. 
In  addition  to  the  Greek  thought,  which  took  time 
to  master,  there  was  that  further  world  swimming 
into  ken,  so  new  and  enchanting,  the  Oriental  phi- 
losophy of  the  Arabian  people;  born  of  Neo- 
Platonism,  with  its  mystical,  misleading  concep- 
tions, and  its  profound  idealism,  this  philosophy 
was  very  different  from  the  cold,  clear  speculation 
of  the  Neo-Latins  and  Anglo-Celts. 

It  was  not  until  1270,  or  thereabouts,  that  the 
West  completed  its  elaboration  of  these  foreign 
treasures,  and  the  initial  chaos  gave  place  to  order 
and  equilibrium ;  it  was  then  that  Thomas  Aquinas, 
the  great  systematizer  among  the  intellectual  giants 
of  that  age,  laid  hold  of  his  opportunity  and  won 
his  secure  place  in  the  history  of  thought. 


We  are  now  ready  to  enumerate  the  general  re- 
sults of  the  great  network  of  causes  which  func- 
tioned in  the  philosophical  development  of  the  thir- 
teenth century.  Among  these  general  results  we 
shall  confine  our  attention  to  two  outstanding  facts 
which  dominate  the  entire  thought  of  the  thirteenth 
century, — like  two  high  peaks  towering  above  the 

/7«f/osr 


82  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

rest  in  a  mountain  range.  On  the  one  hand,  there 
is  the  predominance,  in  western  Europe,  of  a  great 
system  of  philosophy, — the  scholastic  philosophy; 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  impressive  classifica- 
tion of  human  knowledge.  It  is  important  now  to 
note  carefully  the  significance  of  these  facts;  we 
shall  seek  to  analyze  them  in  the  chapters  that  fol- 
low. 

First,  then,  the  scholastic  philosophy.  Numer- 
ous philosophical  systems  rose  up  on  every  side  as  if, 
as  I  said  at  the  outset,  a  great  variety  of  seed  had 
been  scattered  on  fertile  soil  by  some  generous 
hand.  The  thirteenth  century  is  rich  in  personali- 
ties. But,  among  the  numerous  philosophical  sys- 
tems to  which  the  century  gave  birth,  there  is  one 
which  overshadows  and  surpasses  all  others  in  its 
influence.  It  is  the  scholastic  philosophy.  This  is 
the  system  of  doctrines  which  attains  the  height  of 
its  perfection  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  to 
which  the  majority  of  the  ablest  minds  subscribe, — 
such  as  William  of  Auvergne,  Alexander  of  Hales, 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Bonaventure,  and  Duns  Scotus, 
to  mention  no  others.  There  is  a  great  fund  of 
common  doctrines,  which  each  interprets  in  his  own 
way,  following  his  individual  genius;  just  as  there 
is  also  a  common  Gothic  architecture,  which  appears 
in  a  great  many  cathedrals,  each  of  which  expresses 
its  own  individuality.  This  system  of  doctrines 
constitutes  the  binding  tie  in  an  important  school 
of  masters,  who  are  thereby  united  like  the  mem- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  83 

bers  of  a  family.  They  themselves  call  it,  in  the 
manuscripts  of  the  period,  the  ''sententia  com- 
munis/'  the  prevalent  philosophy.  This  common 
fund  of  doctrine,  to  which  I  was  the  first  to  limit 
the  name  of  "scholastic  philosophy"^"  presents  an 
imposing  mass  of  ideas. 

To  be  sure,  there  were  rival  and  opposing  phi- 
losophies. Never,  at  any  time  in  the  history  of 
mankind,  has  contradiction  lost  its  right.  The 
thirteenth  century  is  full  of  clashes  of  ideas  and 
conflicts  issuing  therefrom.  For  instance,  they  ex- 
perienced the  shocks  of  materialism,  of  Averroism, 
and  of  Latin  Neo-Platonism.  Thus,  Latin  Averro- 
ism, which  caused  so  much  disturbance  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Paris,  about  1270,  denies  the  individual- 
ity of  the  act  of  thinking,  by  asserting  that  all  men 
think  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  single  soul, 
the  soul  of  the  race.^^  Again,  the  Neo-Platonic 
philosophies,  which  appear  in  the  schools  of  Paris, 
deny  all  real  transcendence  of  God  by  making  crea- 
tion an  emanation  from  God,  that  is  to  say  a  part 
of  God  Himself.^^  Very  naturally,  therefore, 
against  this  common  peril  a  coalition  was  formed, 
both  defensive  and  offensive;  and  a  legion  of  war- 
riors,— such  men  as  Roger  Bacon,  Bonaventure, 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Duns  Scotus — forgot  their  quar- 
rels and  faced  the  common  foe. 

10  Cf.  my  Histoire  de  la  Philosophie  Medievale,  pp.  Ill  flf. 

11  See  ch.  XIII,  iv. 

12  See  ch.  XIII,  v  and  vi. 


84  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

The  scholastic  pliilosophers  of  the  thirteenth 
century  also  exhibits  reasoning  superior  to  all  the 
systems  which  were  trying  to  batter  a  breach  in  their 
systems  of  thought.  A  celebrated  painting  of 
the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  which  is 
preserved  at  Pisa,  furnishes  a  striking  confirmation 
of  this  fact ;  for  it  reveals  the  recognition  in  society 
at  large  that  the  scholastic  philosophy  was  the  pre- 
dominating philosophy  of  the  time.  The  painter, 
Traini,  represents  Thomas  Aquinas  as  crowned  in 
glory  and  with  Averroes  at  his  feet  crouching  in 
the  attitude  of  a  defeated  warrior.  The  triumph 
of  Aquinas  is  the  triumph  of  scholasticism,  and  the 
defeat  of  Averroes  indicates  the  defeat  of  the  entire 
Oriental  and  Arabian  mentality.  This  painting  of 
Traini,  celebrating  the  triumph  of  Thomism,  be- 
came a  theme  of  the  studio,  that  is  to  say  a  common 
opinion,  a  recognized  fact.^^  It  is  reproduced  in  a 
host  of  well-known  paintings.  We  find  it  splen- 
didly developed,  by  an  unknown  painter  of  the 
Sienna  school,  in  the  Capitular  Hall  built  by  the 
Dominicans  in  1350,  at  Florence  (Chapel  of  the 
Spaniards).  The  subject  attracted  Gozzoli  (in  the 
Louvre)  ;  the  Spaniard  Zurbaran  (Museum  of 
Seville)  ;  then  Fihppino  Lippi  (Church  of  Mi- 
nerva, Rome),  who  in  turn  directly  inspired  Ra- 
phael's   "Dispute    of    the    Blessed    Sacrament." 

13  See  below  ch.  VII,  ii,  and  ch.  XIII,  iv. 

1*  Gillet,  Histoire  artistique  des  ordres  mendiants,  Paris,  1912,  pp. 
139  if. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


85 


VI 

The  second  great  fact  resulting  from  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  the  thirteenth  century  is  the  classifi- 
cation of  human  knowledge.  All  of  the  philosophi- 
cal systems, — not  only  the  dominating  or  scholastic 
philosophy,  but  also  those  anti-scholastic  systems 
with  which  it  was  in  perpetual  struggle  and  con- 
tradiction— rested  upon  the  conception  of  a  vast 
classification,  a  gigantic  work  of  systematization, 
the  fruit  of  many  centuries  of  speculation,  and  one 
of  the  characteristic  achievements  of  the  mediaeval 
mind.  For  more  than  a  thousand  years  it  has  satis- 
fied thinkers  athirst  for  order  and  clarity.  In  what 
does  it  consist? 

One  may  compare  it  to  a  monumental  structure, 
to  a  great  pyramid  consisting  of  three  steps, — with 
the  sciences  of  observation  as  the  base,  with  philoso- 
phy as  the  middle  of  the  structure,  and  with  theol- 
ogy as  the  apex.^*"  Let  us  consider  each  of  these 
in  order. 

i***  The  general  scheme  is: 

I.  Particular  sciences,  such  as  botany,  zoology,  etc. 
II.  Philosophy.     A.  Theoretical    a.  Physics 

b.  Mathematics 

c.  Metaphysics 
B.  Practical        a.  Logic 

b.  Ethics 

c.  Social  and  political  philosophy 


III.  Theology. 


C.  Poetical 

A.  Doctrinal 

B.  Mystical 


a.  Scriptural    (auctoritates) 

b.  Apologetical  (rationes) 


86  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

At  the  base  are  the  natural  sciences  such  as  as- 
tronomy, botany,  physiology,  zoolog}^  chemistry 
(elements),  physics  (in  the  the  modern  sense  of 
the  word)  ;  and  instruction  in  these  precedes  in- 
struction in  philosophy.  In  this  there  is  a  very  in- 
teresting pedagogical  application  of  a  ruling  prin- 
ciple in  the  philosophical  ideology  of  the  Middle 
Ages;  that  is  that  since  human  knowledge  is  con- 
tained in  the  data  of  sensation,  the  cultivation  of 
the  mind  must  begin  with  what  falls  under  the  ob- 
servation of  the  senses;  nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod 
non  piius  fuerit  in  sensu.^'^  But  more  especially 
there  is  implied,  in  this  placing  of  the  experimental 
sciences  at  the  threshold  of  philosophy,  a  concep- 
tion which  inspires  the  scientific  philosophies  of  all 
times;  namely,  that  the  synthetic  or  total  concep- 
tion of  the  world  furnished  by  philosophy  must  be 
founded  on  an  analytic  or  detailed  conception 
yielded  by  a  group  of  special  sciences.  These  lat- 
ter study  the  world  minutely;  and  for  this  reason 
they  are  called  special  sciences.  They  investigate 
the  world  in  one  domain  after  another;  the  phi- 
losophers of  the  thirteenth  century  speak  clearly 
concerning  this  method — the  basis  of  the  particu- 
larity of  a  science. 

In  every  science,  say  the  scholars  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,^^  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  the 

15  See  ch.  VIII,  i. 

16  Thomas  Aquinas,  Summa  Theol.,  1*  q.  I,  arts.  1-3,  passim; 
Contra  Gentiles,  II,  4;  Henricus  Gandavensis,  Summa  Theolog.,  art. 
7,  q.  I-VI. 


IN   THE   MIDDLE   AGES  87 

objects  with  which  it  is  concerned  {mateiia)  from 
the  point  of  view  from  which  these  objects  are  con- 
sidered {ratio  formalis).  The  objects  with  which 
a  science  is  concerned  are  its  material ;  for  example, 
the  human  body  constitutes  the  material  of  an- 
atomy and  of  physiology.  But  every  science  takes 
its  material  in  its  own  way;  it  treats  this  material 
from  some  one  angle,  and  this  angle  is  always  a 
point  of  vietc  upon  which  the  mind  deliberately 
centers,  an  aspect  of  things  which  the  mind  sepa- 
rates out, — "abstracts"  (ahstrahit)  from  its  ma- 
terial. Thus  the  point  of  view  of  anatomy  is  not 
that  of  physiology;  for  anatomy  describes  the  or- 
gans of  the  human  body,  while  physiology,  is  con- 
cerned w^th  their  functions.  The  point  of  view  of 
the  one  is  static  and  of  the  other  dynamic. 

From  this  it  obviously  follows  that  two  sciences 
can  be  engaged  with  the  same  material,  or — to  bor- 
row the  philosophical  terminology  of  the  Middle 
Ages — possess  a  common  material  object  (ohjec- 
turn  materiale)  ;  but  they  must  possess  in  each  case, 
under  penalty  of  being  confused,  a  distinct  point 
of  view,  a  unique  formal  object  {objectum  for- 
male) ,  which  is  the  special  "good"  of  each  science. 
And,  indeed,  w^hatever  group  of  sciences  we  may 
consider,  we  do,  in  fact  discover  everywhere  the 
operation  of  this  law,  regulating  the  distinctions 
among  the  sciences;  geology,  inorganic  chemistry, 
and  physics  are  concerned  with  the  sajne  object — 
the  inanimate  world — but  from  different  points  of 


88  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

view.  Biology,  paleontology,  anatomy,  and  physi- 
ology study  the  organism  but  in  its  different  as- 
pects. The  material  common  to  political  economy, 
civil  law,  and  criminal  law  is  human  action,  but 
each  of  these  sciences  regards  the  complete  reality 
of  human  action  from  a  special  angle.  From  this 
intellectualistic  conception  of  the  sciences,  which 
bases  the  specific  character  of  the  science  upon  the 
point  of  view,  it  follows  that  a  new  science  must  be 
born  whenever  research  and  discovery  reveal  a  new 
aspect,  a  point  of  view  hitherto  unsuspected  in  the 
unending  pursuit  of  reality;  the  further  the  mind 
extends  its  view  of  things,  the  further  does  it  pene- 
trate into  the  secrets  of  reality. 

This  theory  of  science  helps  us  to  understand 
what  makes  a  science  "special,"  and  how  in  the  thir- 
teenth century  "special"  sciences  are  opposed  to 
"general"  science.  The  particularity  of  the  sciences 
rests  upon  two  considerations  which  supplement 
each  other,  and  an  examination  of  a  few  of  the  sci- 
ences which  we  have  named  as  examples  will  suffice 
to  show  in  the  concrete  the  value  of  these  consider- 
ations. Anatomy  and  physiology,  we  said,  are  con- 
cerned with  the  human  body,  but  they  are  not  con- 
cerned about  geological  strata  or  stars.  The  ma- 
terial studied  is  a  particular  bit  of  reahty;  a  re- 
stricted, specialized  department  or — to  use  again 
the  mediaeval  terminology — their  material  object 
(objectum  materiale)  is  restricted.  On  the  other 
hand,  precisely  because  anatomy  and  physiology 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  89 

are  concerned  with  only  a  particular  group  of  ex- 
istences, the  point  of  view  {objectum  formale)  un- 
der which  they  include  this  group  of  existences  is 
also  restricted;  it  is  not  applied  to  other  categories 
of  the  real. 

But, — and  this  is  the  second  point — the  detailed 
examination  of  the  world  for  which  the  special  sci- 
ences take  up  particular  positions  does  not  suffice 
to  satisfy  the  mind ;  after  the  detail  it  demands  total 
views.  Philosophy  is  simply  a  survey  of  the  world 
as  a  whole.  The  man  of  science  is  like  a  stranger 
who  would  explore  a  city  bit  by  bit,  and  who  travels 
through  its  avenues,  promenades,  museums,  parks, 
and  buildings  one  after  the  other.  When  at  last 
he  has  wandered  over  the  city  in  all  directions, 
there  will  still  remain  another  way  for  him  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  it ;  from  the  height  of  a  plat- 
form, from  the  summit  of  a  tower,  from  the  basket 
of  a  balloon,  from  an  aviator's  seat,  the  city  would 
disclose  to  him  another  aspect, — its  framework, 
plan,  and  relative  disposition  of  parts.  But  that 
way  is  the  way  of  the  philosopher,  and  not  of  the 
scientist.  The  philosopher  is  thus  the  man  who 
views  the  world  from  the  top  of  a  lookout  and  sets 
himself  to  learn  its  structure;  philosophy  is  a  syn- 
thetic and  general  knowledge  of  things.  It  is  not 
concerned  with  this  or  that  compartment  of  exis- 
tence, but  with  all  beings  existent  or  possible,  the 
real  without  restriction.  It  is  not  a  particular  but 
a  general  science.     General  science  or  philosophy 


90  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

constitutes  the  second  stage  of  knowledge.     It  is 
human  wisdom  {sapientia) ,  science  par  excellence, 

iirKTTrjfiT], 

This  generality  has  a  twofold  aspect;  for  in  two 
ways  the  general  character  of  philosophy  is  op- 
posed to  the  special  character  of  the  particular 
sciences.  In  the  first  place,  instead  of  dealing  with 
one  department  of  reality,  philosophy  plunges  into 
the  immensity  of  the  real,  of  all  that  is.  Its  mat- 
ter (material  object)  is  not  general  of  course  in  the 
sense  of  an  encyclopedia  (as  was  supposed  in  the 
early  Middle  Ages  by  Isidore  of  Seville  and  by 
Rhabanus  Maurus,  or  by  Vincent  of  Beauvais  in 
the  thirteenth  century)  into  which  is  thrown  pell- 
mell,  and  in  a  purely  artificial  order,  a  formidable 
array  of  information  in  regard  to  all  that  is  known 
and  knowable.  An  encyclopedia  is  not  a  science 
and  does  not  pretend  to  be.  If  philosophy  deals 
with  all  reality  it  does  so  by  the  way  of  viewing 
things  in  their  totality.  But,  in  the  second  place, 
these  total  views  are  possible  only  when  the  mind 
discovers,  in  the  totality  of  reality,  certain  aspects 
or  points  of  view  which  are  met  with  everywhere 
and  which  reach  to  the  very  depths  of  reality.  To 
return  to  the  technical  scholastic  language,  with 
which  we  are  familiar,  its  formal  and  precise  object 
is  the  study  of  something  that  is  found  everywhere 
and  which  must  be  general  because  it  is  common  to 
everything.     Philosophy  is  defined  as  the  under- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  91 

standing  of  all  things  through  their  fundamental 
and  universal  reasons/^' 

The  thirteenth  century  directs  us  to  the  signifi- 
cance of  synthesis  or  generality  which  belongs  to 
philosophy,  by  taking  up  and  completing  Aristo- 
tle's famous  division  of  philosophy,  which  was  ac- 
cepted as  valid  down  to  the  time  of  Wolff  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  Philosophy  is  first,  theoreti- 
cal, second,  practical,  and  third,  poetical.  This 
threefold  division  of  philosophy  into  speculative, 
practical,  and  poetical  is  based  upon  man's  differ- 
ent contacts  with  the  totality  of  the  real,  or,  as  it 
was  put  then,  with  the  universal  order. 

Speculative  or  theoretical  (^cw/jctv,  to  consider) 
philosophy  gives  the  results  of  acquaintance  with 
the  world  in  its  objective  aspect;  it  includes  the  phi- 
losophy of  nature,  mathematics,  and  metaphysics, 
which  consider  {consider at  sed  non  facit)  change, 
quantity,  and  the  general  conditions  of  being,  re- 
spectively, in  the  material  world.  There  are  three 
stages  through  which  the  mind  passes  in  order  to 
secure  a  total  view  of  the  world  of  which  it  is  spec- 
tator. The  Middle  Ages  defines  physics,  or  the 
philosophy  of  nature,  as  "the  study  of  the  material 
world  in  so  far  as  it  is  carried  in  the  stream  of 
change,  motus/'  Change!  Whether,  indeed,  it  is 
a  question  of  the  inorganic  kingdom  or  of  the  realm 
of  the  living,  of  plants  or  of  human  life,  of  the 

16*  Thomas  Aquinas,  In  Metaph.  1,  lect.  2.    "Sapientia  est  scientia 
quae  considerat  primas  et  universales  causas." 


92  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

atom  or  of  the  course  of  the  stars :  all  that  is  in  the 
sensible  world,  becomes,  that  is  to  say,  changes, 
evolves;  or,  to  use  the  expression  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  everything  is  in  motion  {movere).  To 
study,  in  its  inmost  nature,  change  and  its  implica- 
tions, in  order  to  explain  the  movements  of  the  ma- 
terial world, — this  is  the  task  of  the  philosophy  of 
nature/^  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  study  is  of  a 
regressive  and  synthetic  kind,  that  it  is  general, 
that  is  to  say,  philosophical,  on  account  of  the  gen- 
eral character  of  the  material  investigated  (ma- 
terial object),  and  the  generality  of  the  point  of 
view  from  which  the  inquiry  is  undertaken  ( formal 
object).  But  through  all  their  changes  and  trans- 
formations bodies  preserve  a  common  attribute,  the 
primary  attribute  of  body — quantity — so  that  the 
study  of  quantity  forces  us  to  penetrate  reality  still 
further.  Mathematics,  which  studies  quantity  as 
regards  its  logical  implications,  was  for  the  ancients 
a  philosophical  and  therefore  a  general  science,  and 
in  our  day  many  scientists  are  tending  to  return  to 
this  Aristotelian  notion.  Metaphysics  enters  deep- 
est of  all  into  reality  and  deals  with  what  is  beyond 
motion  and  quantity, — for  the  sole  purpose  of  con- 
sidering the  general  determinations  of  being. 

But  practical  philosophy  is  no  less  general  in 
character,  although  it  is  not  concerned  with  the  uni- 
versal order  in  its  objective  reality,  but  with  the 

17  Be  it  observed  that,  since  man  is  a  part  of  the  world  of  sense- 
perception,  psychology  also  belongs  to  physics. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  98 

activities  (TrpaTreiv)  of  conscious  life,  through  which 
we  enter  into  relation  with  that  reality  {considerat 
faciendo).  Hence,  as  Thomas  Aquinas  explains, 
practical  philosophy  is  occupied  with  an  order  of 
things  of  which  man  is  at  once  spectator  (since  he 
examines  it  by  turning  upon  himself)  and  maker 
(since  he  forms  it  through  his  conscious  function, 
that  is,  knowing  and  willing).  Practical  philos- 
ophy includes  logic  and  ethics  and  politics. 
Logic  sets  up  a  scheme  of  all  that  we  know,  of  the 
method  of  constructing  the  sciences;  and  there  is 
nothing  that  the  human  mind  cannot  know  in  some 
imperfect  way.  Ethics  studies  the  realm  of  our 
acts,  and  there  is  nothing  in  human  life  that  cannot 
become  the  material  of  duty.  Politics  is  concerned 
with  the  realm  of  social  institutions,  and  there  is 
nothing  which  has  not  its  social  side,  since  man  is 
made  to  live  in  society  {animale  sociale) ,  Going 
more  deeply  into  the  analysis  of  practical  philos- 
ophy, one  might  show  that  logic  draws  in  its  train 
speculative  grammar,  for  it  invades  the  fields  of 
grammar  and  rhetoric — its  former  associates  in  the 
trivium — to  draw  thence  material  for  controversy. 
Furthermore,  Paris  saw  the  birth  of  some  true  phi- 
losophers of  language,  in  the  speculative  grammars 
of  Siger  of  Courtrai  and  of  Duns  Scotus;^^  and  the 
lexicographical    codes    of   Donatus    and    Priscian 

18  The  authenticity  of  the  Grammatica  specnlativa,  attributed  to 
Duns  Scotus,  has  been  doubted.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  a  re- 
markable work. 


94  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

which  had  satisfied  the  twelfth  century  were  finally 
rejected  with  scorn.  Logic,  ethics,  and  politics  all 
claim  to  be  in  touch  with  the  immensity  of  the  re- 
ality with  which  man  enters  into  relation. 

The  same  quahty  of  universality  should  pertain 
to  the  third  group  of  the  philosophical  sciences,  the 
poetical  ( Trout*',  to  make)  sciences,  which  study  the 
order  achieved  by  man  externally  through  the 
guidance  of  reason.  Man  is  at  once  the  spectator 
and  maker  of  an  order  which  he  creates.  But  this 
order  is  outside  of  him,  in  matter.'''  This  third 
group  is  the  least  developed  of  all.  It  would  seem 
as  if  the  human  product  par  excellence,  the  work  of 
art,  endowed  with  beauty,  should  here  occupy  a 
large  place.  But  the  thinkers  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury regard  the  productive  activity  of  the  artisan, — 
maker  of  furniture  or  builder  of  houses — as  on  the 
same  level  with  the  human  creative  activity  which 
inspires  epics  and  which  makes  cathedrals  to  rise 
and  stained  windows  to  flame  and  granite  statues 
to  live.  Dante  has  no  special  thought  of  beauty, 
when  he  speaks  of  the  work  of  art,  as  "the  grandson 
of  God."""  The  professional  philosophers  bury  their 
reflections  on  beauty  in  metaphysical  studies; 
hence  the  fragmentary  character  of  their  thought 
in  that  realm.  Possibly  this  omission  as  regards 
aesthetic  theory  has  its  explanation  in  the  corporate 
character  of  their  labors.    The  artisan  was  devoted 

19  Cf.  Thomas  Aquinas,  In  Ethic.  Nicom.,  I,  1, 

20  The  Inferno,  XT,  103,  "...  a  Dio  quasi  nepote." 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  95 

to  his  calling;  and  this  devotion  was  such  that  every 
artisan  was,  or  might  hecome,  an  artist.  The  dis- 
tinction between  artes  liber  ales  and  artes  mechani- 
cae  did  not  rest  upon  any  superiority  of  the  artistic 
activity  as  such,  but  upon  the  difference  in  the  pro- 
cesses employed;  both  were  possessed  of  the  ratio 
artis  in  like  manner."^"  Furthermore,  we  must  bear 
in  mind  that  the  contemporaries  of  an  artistic  apo- 
gee do  not  realize  the  significance  of  the  develop- 
ment witnessed  by  them ;  theories  always  come  later 
than  the  facts  which  they  are  meant  to  explain.  In 
any  event,  we  should  note  how  large  and  human  is 
the  philosophical  conception  of  art  in  the  Middle 
Ages;  there  is  no  work  of  man  which  it  cannot 
clothe  in  the  royal  mantle  of  beauty. 

It  remains  only  to  mention  the  last  order  of  stud- 
ies which  is  placed  above  philosophy,  and  which  cor- 
responds, in  the  comparison  that  we  have  been  mak- 
ing, to  the  highest  part  of  the  structure,  to  the  apex 
of  the  pyramid.  This  is  theology ^  doctrinal  and 
mystical. ^^  The  part  relating  to  doctrines  is  an  ar- 
rangement of  dogmas  founded  upon  the  Christian 
revelation,  and  we  shall  see  later^^  that  it  takes  a 
double  form, — being  both  scriptural  and  apolo- 
getical. 

Theology    aside,    this    classification    of    human 

2oa  "Nec  oportet,  si  liberales  artes  sunt  nobiliores,  quod  magis  eis 
conveniat  ratio  artis."    Summa  Theol.,  la  2ae,  q.  LVII,  art.  3,  in  fine. 

21  For  its  place  in  the  general  scheme  see  above,  p,  85. 

22  See  ch.  VII. 


96  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

knowledge  is  Aristotelian  in  origin.  The  Aristo- 
telian spirit  appears  not  only  in  the  very  notion  of 
"science,"  which  aims  at  unity;  but  also  in  the  rela- 
tion between  the  particular  sciences  and  philos- 
ophy. Since  the  latter  rests  upon  the  former,  it  re- 
mains in  permanent  contact  with  the  facts ;  indeed, 
it  is  anchored  to  the  very  rocks  of  reality.  The 
abundant  harvest  of  facts,  supplied  by  Greeks  and 
Arabians,  was  enriched  by  fresh  observations  in 
physics  (in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word),  chem- 
ii^try  (elementary),  botany,  zoology  and  human 
physiology.  Moreover,  Thomas  Aquinas  and  God- 
frey of  Fontaines  and  others  borrowed  material 
from  the  special  sciences  which  were  taught  in  the 
other  university  faculties,  notably  from  medicine 
and  from  law  (civil  and  canon).  Facts  about  na- 
ture and  about  the  physical  and  social  man, — in- 
deed, observations  from  all  sources — are  called 
upon  to  supply  materials  for  the  synthetic  view  of 
philosophy.  They  all  claim  with  Dominicus  Gun- 
dissalinus,  that  there  is  no  science  which  may  not 
contribute  to  philosophy.  Nulla  est  scientia  qiuie 
non  sit  aliqua  j^hHosopJiiae  imrs."^^  Scholastic  phi- 
losophy is  thus  a  philosophy  based  upon  science, 
and  it  is  perhaps  not  superfluous  to  observe  that 
we  are  now  more  than  ever  returning  to  these  con- 
ceptions. 

But  in  order  to  appreciate  at  their  true  worth  the 

23  De   divisione   Philosophiae,  Prologus,  p.   5,  edit.   Baur    (Baiim- 
ker's-Beitrage,  IV,  2-3). 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  97 

applications  made  by  the  scholastics,  we  must  make 
a  twofold  reservation.  First,  facts  were  studied 
much  more  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  material 
for  philosophy  than  for  their  own  sake;  hence  the 
Middle  Ages  never  recognized  the  distinction  be- 
tween common  experience  and  scientific  experi- 
ment, which  is  so  familiar  to  us.  Second,  this  ma- 
terial secured  out  of  observation  and  experience, 
represented  a  mixture, — a  mixture  of  facts  artifi- 
cially obtained  and  of  exact  observation.  The 
former  necessarily  lead  to  erroneous  conclusions, 
examples  of  which  we  shall  see  later.^*  The  latter, 
however,  were  adequate  for  establishing  legitimate 
conclusions. 

Finally,  the  Aristotehan  spirit  appears  also  in 
the  inner  articulation  of  philosophy  itself.  During 
the  first  centuries  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  Platonic 
division  of  philosophy  into  physics,  logic,  and  ethics 
had  been  in  vogue ;  and  for  a  long  time  it  persisted. 
The  thirteenth  century  definitely  rejects  it,  or 
rather  absorbs  it  into  new  classifications.  Com- 
pared with  Aristotle — the  most  brilliant  teacher 
whom  humanity  has  known — Plato  is  only  a 
poet,  saying  beautiful  things  without  order  or 
method.  Dante  was  right  when  he  called  Aristotle 
'HJie  master  of  those  who  know/'  But  to  know  is 
above  all  to  order;  sapientis  est  ordinare, — it  is  the 
mission  of  the  wise  man  to  put  order  into  his  knowl- 
edge. Even  those  who  do  not  accept  the  ideas  of 
the  Stagy  rite  acknowledge  his  kingship  when  it  is 

24  See  ch.  V,  ii. 


98  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

a  question  of  order  or  clearness.  "Three-quarters 
of  mankind,"  writes  Taine,"  "take  general  notions 
for  idle  speculations.  So  much  the  worse  for  them. 
What  does  a  nation  or  an  age  live  for,  except  to 
form  them?  Only  through  them  does  one  become 
completely  human.  If  some  inhabitant  of  another 
planet  should  descend  here  to  learn  how  far  our 
race  had  advanced,  we  would  have  to  show  him  our 
five  or  six  important  ideas  regarding  the  mind  and 
the  world.  That  alone  would  give  him  the  measure 
of  our  intelligence."  To  such  a  question  the  scho- 
lars of  the  Middle  Ages  would  have  replied  by  ex- 
hibiting their  classification  of  knowledge,  and  they 
would  have  won  glory  thereby.  Indeed,  it  consti- 
tutes a  remarkable  chapter  in  scientific  methodol- 
ogy, a  kind  of  "introduction  to  philosophy,"  to  use 
a  modern  expression.  Whatever  may  be  one's 
judgment  regarding  the  value  of  this  famous  classi- 
fication, one  must  bow  in  respect  before  the  great 
ideal  which  it  seeks  to  promote.  It  meets  a  need 
which  recurrently  haunts  humanity  and  which  ap- 
pears in  all  great  ages :  the  need  for  the  unification 
of  knowledge.  The  thirteenth  century  dreamed  of 
it,  as  Aristotle  and  Plato  did  in  ancient  times,  and 
as  Auguste  Comte  and  Herbert  Spencer  have  done 
in  our  day.  It  is  a  splendid  product  of  greatness 
and  power,  and  we  shall  see  in  the  chapters  that 
follow  how  closely  bound  up  it  is  with  the  civiliza- 
tion to  which  it  belongs. 

25  Le  positivisme  anglais,  Paris,  1864,  pp.  11,  12. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


Unifying  and  Cosmopolitan  Tendencies 

i.  Need  of  universality;  the  "law  of  parsimony."  ii.  Excess 
resulting  from  the  felt  need  of  simplifying  without  limit;  the 
geocentric  system  and  the  anthropocentric  conception,  iii. 
The  society  of  mankind  {"universitas  humana")  in  its  theo- 
retical and  practical  forms,     iv.  Cosmopolitan  tendencies. 


We  have  seen  that  there  are  two  outstanding  re- 
sults of  the  various  causes  that  make  for  the  great 
development  of  philosophy  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. On  the  one  hand,  there  is  the  great  classifica- 
tion of  human  knowledge,  in  which  each  science  had 
its  own  particular  place — a  pyramid  of  three  stages, 
or  if  one  prefers  the  figure  employed  by  Boethius/ 
a  ladder  for  scaling  the  walls  of  learning.  On  the 
other  hand,  among  all  the  clashing  systems  which 
rest  upon  that  classification,  there  is  one  system  of 
thought  which  prevails, — that  is  scholasticism;  and 
it  wins  widest  acceptance  because  it  succeeds  in  re- 
ducing to  one  harmonious  whole  all  of  the  problems 
and  their  solutions. 

Bearing  in  mind  these  two  great  facts,  we  shall 

1  Boethius,  De  Conaolatione  Philos<yphiae,  Lib.  I,  I. 

99 


100  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

now  proceed  to  show  that  they  possess  characteris- 
tics which  are  found  in  every  sphere  of  the  Hfe  of 
the  times;  and,  indeed,  as  will  appear,  they  are  in 
organic  connection  with  all  the  other  factors  of 
mediaeval  civilization. 

There  is  one  fundamental  characteristic,  appear- 
ing in  the  scientific  classification  and  the  scholastic 
philosophy,  which  is  found  everywhere ;  I  mean  the 
tendency  toward  unity.  The  need  of  ordering 
everything  in  accordance  with  principles  of  unity 
and  stabihty,  the  search  for  systems  which  extend 
themselves  over  vast  domains,  is  one  of  the  con- 
spicuous marks  of  a  century  which  saw  in  the  large, 
and  which  acted  on  a  broad  plan.  Wherever  we 
turn,  we  find  a  prodigious  ambition  of  initiators 
and  everyone  dreaming  of  universal  harmony. 

The  policy  of  kings  was  filled  with  this  ambition. 
For,  at  this  time,  the  feeling  for  unity  began  to 
vivify  great  states  such  as  France  and  England  and 
Germany  and  Spain.  Now,  this  unity  could  not 
be  realized  except  by  introducing  principles  of 
order,  which  would  bring  under  a  common  regime 
social  classes  scattered  over  vast  territories,  and 
previously  subjected  to  local  and  antagonistic  pow- 
ers. The  thirteenth  century  was  a  century  of  kings 
who  were  all  organizers,  administrators,  legisla- 
tors ;  they  were  builders  of  stabihty,  who  all  mould- 
ed their  countries  and  their  peoples :  Philip  Augus- 
tus and  Louis  IX  in  France;  Edward  I  in  Eng- 
land; Frederick  II  of  Germany;  Ferdinand  III 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  101 

and  Alphonso  X  in  Spain;  all  had  these  traits  in 
common. 

In  France,  localistic  and  centrifugal  feudalism 
became  more  and  more  feeble,  and  monarchical 
concentration  grew  steadily  stronger.  This  con- 
centration, which  first  appeared  under  Philip 
Augustus,  became  more  and  more  evident  under 
Louis  IX,  who  perfected  the  work  of  unification 
begun  by  his  grandfather.  A  lover  of  justice,  re- 
spectful of  the  rights  of  others,  and  jealous  of  his 
own,  he  made  no  attempt  to  crush  the  feudal  lords 
or  the  cities.  There  was  nothing  despotic  in  his 
rule,  and  he  permitted  all  kinds  of  social  forces  to 
develop  themselves.^  His  reign  resembled  the  oak 
under  which  he  held  his  court  of  justice;  for  the 
oak,  the  lord  of  the  forest,  likewise  refrains  from 
stifling  growths  of  more  fragile  structure  which 
seek  protection  under  its  shade. 

Without  attempting  to  establish  a  parallel  be- 
tween the  policy  and  social  condition  of  France  and 
the  neighboring  countries,  one  must  recognize 
that  the  stability  realized  by  Louis  IX  recurs  mu- 
tatis mutandis  in  England.  When  John  Lackland 
rendered  to  England  "the  inestimable  service  of 
losing  her  French  possessions,"^  the  country  organ- 
ized itself  from  within  outward.  The  Magna 
Charta  of  1215  established  a  rule  of  liberty  in  favor 
of  the  clergy  and  the  nobility ;  it  produced  an  equi- 

2  Luchaire,  A.,  Louis  VII,  Philippe  Auguste,  Louis  VIII,  p.  203. 

3  See  F.  Harrison,  The  Meaning  of  History,  etc.,  1916,  p.  161. 


102  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

poise  between  the  powers  of  the  king  and  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  nation.  Parhament  came  into  be- 
ing. InteUigent  princes,  hke  Edward  I  (1272- 
1307),  completed  the  conquest  of  the  Island  and 
perfected  the  national  institutions. 

Much  the  same  thing  occured  in  the  Norman 
kingdom  of  the  Two  Sicihes,  and  in  the  Catholic 
kingdoms  of  Spain,  which  grew  powerful  at  the 
cost  of  the  Arab  states  in  the  south  of  the  penin- 
sula, and  in  which  later  the  Cortes  checked  the  royal 
power.  Like  his  relative  Louis  IX,  Ferdinand 
III,  king  of  Castile,  had  the  centralizing  idea.  He 
organized  a  central  administration  of  the  state ;  and 
only  his  death  prevented  him  from  achieving  legis- 
lative unity,  which  would  have  consolidated  the  mo- 
saic of  peoples  living  within  the  expanding  confines 
of  Castile.* 

But  while  in  France,  in  England,  in  the  Catholic 
kingdorns  of  Spain,  and  in  the  Norman  kingdom  of 
the  south  of  Italy,  royalty  was  gaining  in  influence, 
the  German  Emperor  was  losing  some  of  his^ power. 
The  result  was  that  the  two  types  of  government  in 
the  West,  feudal  particularism  and  German  cen- 
tralized authority,  steadily  approached  each  other, 
and  the  different  European  states  became  more  like 
a  single  family.  The  German  barons,  bishops,  and 
abbots  were  no  longer  the  "valets'*  of  the  emperor; 

*  Altamira,  Historia  de  Espaiia  y  de  la  civilisacion  espagnola,  1913, 
I,  p.  385. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  103 

the  feudal  nobility  gained  more  independence ;  cities 
began  to  show  their  power. 

Even  in  Italy,  which  the  German  Emperors  had 
so  long  claimed  as  their  own,  Frederic  II,  son  of 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  had  to  reckon  with  the  Lom- 
bard cities  which  were  powerful  principalities,  seek- 
ing to  shake  off  his  yoke.  In  his  person  the  family 
of  the  Hohenstauf en  underwent  defeat  at  the  hands 
of  the  Pope. 

Above  this  process  of  beginning  nationalization, 
states  which  were  striving  towards  an  autonomous 
national  life,  stood  the  Papacy,  which  assumed  in 
the  person  of  Innocent  III  its  most  perfect  me- 
diaeval expression.  Its  mission  being  above  all 
regulatory,  the  Papacy  followed  a  religious  and  in- 
ternational policy  whose  effect  on  the  whole  century 
will  be  defined  later  in  this  chapter.^  It  was  In- 
nocent III  who  affirmed  the  unitary  role  of  the 
Papacy  in  the  political  life  of  his  age:  he  was  the 
first  to  set  up  as  a  right  that  which  his  predecessors 
had  practiced  in  fact — that  is,  the  nomination  of 
the  Emperor.^' 

But  politics,  whether  of  kings  or  of  popes,  con- 
stitute only  the  body  of  civilization.  Its  inner 
life  circulates  in  religious  and  moral  feelings,  in 
social,  artistic,  philosophical,  and  scientific  doc- 
trines. 

5  See  below  iii. 

5^  See  the  Bull  Venerabilem:  "jus  et  auctoritas  examinandi  per- 
sonam electam  in  regem  et  promovendum  ad  imperium  ad  nos  spec- 
tat." 


104  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Christian  dogma  and  Christian  ethics  permeated 
the  whole  hmnan  fabric,  no  activity  being  exempted 
from  their  influence.  They  endued  with  a  certain 
supernatural  sanction  the  life  of  individuals,  fami- 
lies and  peoples,  who  were  all  on  a  pilgrimage  {in 
via)  towards  the  heavenly  home  {in  patriam). 
Christianity  gave  a  spirit  of  consecration  to  the 
workers  in  guilds,  to  the  profession  of  arms  (pro- 
vided the  war  was  just) ,  to  ateliers  of  painters  and 
of  sculptors,  to  the  builders  of  cathedrals,  to  cloister- 
schools  and  universities.  The  new  religious  orders 
organized  themselves  in  the  new  spirit  of  the  age. 
While  the  Benedictine  monks  belonged  to  a  par- 
ticular abbey,  as  to  a  large  family,  the  Dominicans 
and  Franciscans  belonged  far  more  to  their  order 
as  a  whole, — they  were  delocalized,  being  sent  out 
for  preaching  like  soldiers  to  a  battlefield.^ 

Similarly,  in  the  whole  field  of  art  there  was  the 
same  dream  of  universality,  and  the  same  attempt 
to  realize  rigorously  the  ideal  of  order. 

The  Gothic  cathedrals,  which  are  the  most  per- 
fect flowering  of  mediaeval  genius,  amaze  modern 
architects  with  the  amplitude  of  their  dimensions. 
"They  were  made  for  crowds,  for  thousands  and 
tens  of  thousands  of  human  beings;  for  the  whole 
human  race,  on  its  knees,  hungry  for  pardon  and 
love."^    At  the  same  time,  they  astound  the  mod- 

7  Henry  Adams,  op.  cit.,  p.  367. 

6  Cf.    E.   Baker,   The  Dominican  Order  and  Convocation,  Oxford, 
Clarendon  Press,  1913. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  105 

em  student  of  art  by  the  logic  of  their  plan.  To 
make  the  edifice  a  mirror  of  nature,  of  the  moral 
world,  and  of  history,  architecture  calls  to  its  aid 
sculpture,  painting,  and  stained  glass.  Immense 
shrines  populate  themselves  with  statues,  with  fig- 
ures of  animals,  plants,  and  foliage,  with  designs  of 
every  kind.  The  visible  world  was  a  veritable  re- 
flection of  the  thought  of  God  for  the  mediaeval 
artists ;  hence  they  thought  that  all  creatures  might 
find  a  place  in  the  cathedral.  Likewise,  the  cathe- 
dral is  the  mirror  of  science,  and,  in  fact,  all  kinds 
of  knowledge,  even  the  humblest,  such  as  fitted  men 
for  manual  labor  and  for  the  making  of  calendars, 
and  also  the  highest,  such  as  liberal  arts,  philosophy, 
and  theology,  were  given  plastic  form.  Thus  the 
cathedral  could  readily  serve  as  a  visible  catechism, 
where  the  man  of  the  thirteenth  century  could  find 
in  simple  outline  all  that  he  needed  to  believe  and  to 
know.  The  highest  was  made  accessible  to  the  low- 
est. Architecture  has  never  been  more  social  and 
popular  at  any  other  period  of  history. 

As  for  literature,  while  the  productions  of  the 
thirteenth  century  do  not  rank  with  their  monu- 
ments of  stone,  nevertheless  they  represent  great  en- 
deavor. A  work  like  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  is  a 
sort  of  encyclopedia  of  everything  that  a  cultured 
layman  of  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century 
ought  to  know.  The  Divine  Comedy,  a  work  which 
has  not  been  imitated  and  which  is  inimitable,  is  a 
symphony  of  the  whole  time.    Dante's  stage  is  the 


106  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

universe;  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  he  in- 
forms us  that  he  writes  "the  sacred  poem  to  which 
heaven  and  earth  put  their  hands. "^ 

While  the  artists  were  thus  giving  birth  to  new 
life  in  art,  the  intellectual  classes  were  hungering 
and  thirsting  to  know  all,  to  assemble  everything 
within  the  domain  of  knowledge,  and,  after  having 
completed  the  collection,  to  submit  all  to  order. 

There  are  different  levels  in  that  effort  toward 
order.  At  the  lower  level  the  encyclopaedists  ex- 
press the  desire  of  the  time  for  an  inventory  of  all 
that  can  be  known.  Thus  Jacopo  de  Voragine,  in 
the  Golden  Legend,  gathers  together  the  legends 
of  the  lives  of  the  saints;  William  the  bishop 
of  Mende  collects  all  that  has  been  said  about  the 
Catholic  liturgy.  There  are  compilers  like  Bar- 
tholomeus  Anglicus,  author  of  a  treatise  De  Pro- 
prietatibus.  Above  all  there  is  Vincent  of  Beau- 
vais,  who  wrote  an  enormous  Speculum  Quadru- 
plex,  a  veritable  Encyclopedia  Britannica  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  Vincent  calls  attention  to  the 
hrevitas  temporum  which  is  at  the  disposal  of  his 
contemporaries  and  to  the  multitudo  lihrorum 
which  they  must  read,  in  order  to  excuse  himself 
for  giving  his  ideas  on  all  possible  subjects.^  Much 
the  same  may  be  said  of  the  work  of  the  jurists  of 
Bologna  and  of  the  canonists — although  doctrine 

8  Divina  Commedia,  Paradiso,  XXV. 

^Speculum  historiale,  cap.  I  (vol.  I  incunable,  ed.  Mentellini, 
1473-6). 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  107 

has  begun  to  develop,  and  the  unity  of  precision 
had  made  its  appearance  in  their  work.  Thus,  the 
jurists  compiled  the  various  theories  of  Roman  law. 
The  most  famous  of  these  jurists,  Accursius  who 
died  in  1252,  united  in  an  enormous  compilation 
(the  Glossa  Ordinaria)  all  the  works  of  his  prede- 
cessors. About  the  same  time,  the  legistes  of 
Philip  Augustus  translated  the  corpus  juris  into 
French;  Edward  I  had  a  collection  made  of  the 
decisions  of  his  courts  of  justice;  and  James  I  of 
Aragon  had  a  codification  made  of  laws,  called  the 
Canellas.  Furthermore,  the  canonists,  at  the  wish 
of  the  Popes,  continued  the  work  of  codification 
begun  by  Gratian  in  his  Decretum,  and  brought 
together  the  decisions  of  the  Popes  (Decretales) 
and  the  decisions  of  the  councils. 

But  in  comparison  with  the  philosophers,  the 
encyclopedists,  jurists,  and  canonists  are  as  dwarfs 
by  the  side  of  giants.  The  philosophers,  as  we  have 
seen,^°  created  that  vast  classification  of  human 
knowledge,  in  which  each  kind  of  thinking  found 
its  place, — and  in  doing  so  they  showed  themselves 
to  be,  as  lovers  of  order  and  clarity,  in  intimate  sym- 
pathy with  the  demands  of  their  time.  Thus,  all  the 
particular  sciences  in  existence  at  the  time,  and  all 
those  that  might  arise  through  a  closer  study  of  in- 
organic matter,  or  of  the  moral  and  social  activities 
of  man,  occupy  a  place  in  the  plan,  marked  out  in 
advance. 

10  See  above,  ch.  Ill,  ii. 


108  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

But  the  shining  example  of  this  urgent  need  for 
universaUty  and  unity  appears  in  that  massive  sys- 
tem of  thought  which  dominates  and  obscures  all 
its  rivals, — namely,  the  scholastic  philosophy. 
Monumental  Summae,  collections  of  public  lectures 
called  Quaestiones  JDisputatae^  and  monographs  of 
all  kinds,  display  an  integral  conception  of  the 
physical  and  moral  world  wherein  no  philosophi- 
cal problems  are  omitted.  Questions  in  psychol- 
ogy, ideology,  and  epistemology ;  on  the  constitu- 
tion of  matter  and  corporeal  bodies ;  on  being,  unity, 
efficiency,  act,  potency,  essence,  existence;  on  the 
logical  construction  of  the  sciences;  on  individual 
and  social  ethics;  on  general  aesthetics;  on  specula- 
tive grammar  and  the  philosophy  of  language — all 
of  these  vital  philosophical  questions  receive  their 
answer.  The  particular  sciences  are  all  pressed  in- 
to service  for  philosophy,  and  they  supply  it  with 
the  facts  and  observations  of  concrete  experience. 
Even  the  intellectual  activities  of  the  jurists  and 
the  canonists  are  also  drawn  within  the  scholastic 
synthesis.  The  scholastics  of  Paris  especially,  in 
their  lectures  and  in  their  books,  treat  from  their 
specific  standpoint  certain  questions  which  the  jur- 
ists treat  by  reference  to  their  technical  demands. 
For  example,  they  commonly  discuss  and  study 
questions  of  private  property,  of  burial,  of  the  right 
to  make  war,  of  the  relations  between  Church  and 
State ;  but  such  questions  are  approached  not  from 
the  point  of  view  of  positive  law,  but  rather  from 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  109 

that  of  moral  and  natural  law.  Thus,  just  as  the 
other  departments  of  human  knowledge  furnish 
their  several  quotas  of  material,  so  civil  and  canon 
law  bring  their  contributions/^  In  this  way,  philo- 
sophical thought  is  endlessly  extended,  and  philos- 
opHy  becomes  an  explanation  of  the  whole. 

But  not  alone  are  all  vital  questions  answered; 
everywhere  there  is  coherence,  and  in  the  full  mean- 
ing of  the  word  (avar-Qfia)  ^ — SO  that  one  may  not 
withdraw  a  single  doctrine  without  thereby  com- 
promising a  group  of  others.  Everything  hangs 
together  by  implication  and  logical  articulation; 
everywhere  appears  to  the  utmost  that  consuming 
desire  for  universality  and  order  which  lays  hold  of 
the  savants  and  leads  them  to  introduce  the  most 
comprehensive  and  rigorous  schema  possible. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Duns  Scotus,  and,  to  a  less  de- 
gree, Alexander  of  Hales  and  Bonaventure  are 
systematic  minds;  their  philosophy  is  an  intellec- 
tual monument,  and  the  sense  of  proportion  which 
it  reveals  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Gothic  cathedral 
to  which  it  has  so  often  been  compared.  It  is  just 
because  everything  is  so  fittingly  combined  in  the 
scholastic  philosophy,^^  and  because  it  does  satisfy 
the  mind's  most  exacting  demands  for  coherence, 
in  which  its  very  life  consists,  that  it  has  charmed 
through  the  ages  so  many  successive  generations  of 
thinkers. 

11  Cf.  above,  ch.  IV,  vi. 

12  See  below,  eh.  X,  for  an  example  of  this  doctrinal  coherence. 


110  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

We  must  also  observe  that  scholastic  philosophy 
accomplishes,  by  means  of  a  limited  number  of 
ideas,  that  doctrinal  order  to  which  it  is  so  devoted. 
It  simplifies  to  the  full  limit  of  its  power.  Each 
doctrine  which  it  introduces  possesses  a  real  value 
for  explanation,  and  consequently  it  cannot  be  sa- 
crificed. Thus,  to  take  only  one  instance,  the 
theories  of  act  and  potency,  of  matter  and  form,  of 
essence  and  existence,  of  substance  and  accident  are 
all  indispensable  to  their  metaphysics.'^  For  them, 
philosophy  as  well  as  nature  obeys  the  principle  of 
parsimony.  Natura  non  ahundat  in  superfluis, 
writes  Thomas  Aquinas.'*  Indeed,  the  thirteenth 
century  had  already  anticipated,  in  various  forms, 
that  counsel  of  wisdom  which  is  usually  attributed 
to  William  of  Occam :  not  to  multiply  entities  with- 
out necessity.'^     In  its  moderation,  indeed,  schol- 

13  See  ch.  IX. 

'^^Summa  Theol,  la  2ae,  q,  XCIV,  art.  2.  The  Leonine  edition  of 
the  Summa  contra  Gentiles,  following  the  original  text  of  Thomas 
(Rome,  1918),  shows  what  pains  the  author  took  in  this  book  to 
realize  the  internal  order  I  refer  to.  The  deliberate  omissions,  the 
additions,  the  studied  improvements, — all  of  this  reveals  much  labor. 
Cf.  A.  Pelzer,  "L'edition  leonine  de  la  Somme  contre  les  Gentils." 
Revue  Neo-Scolastique  de  philosophie,  May,  1920,  pp.  224  fF. 

15  See  below,  p.  117,  note  23,  for  an  application  of  this  principle 
made  by  Dante  to  universal  monarchy.  Duns  Scotus  is  familiar  with 
the  principle.  For  a  note  on  the  formula:  fluritas  non  est  ponenda 
sine  necessitate,  see  Mind,  July  1918,  by  Thorburn,  who  observes 
that  it  does  not  originate  in  Occam.  It  is  in  fact  a  formula  which 
moves  through  the  whole  thirteenth  century,  and  which  expresses 
just  the   felt  need  of  unity  that  engages   us  in  this  chapter.     All 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  111 

astic  philosophy  is  like  the  thirteenth  century  cathe- 
dral, which  admits  only  those  linear  forms  which  are 
required  by  the  rationale  of  the  structure.  It  was 
not  until  the  fourteenth  century  that  those  cumber- 
some theories  appeared  which  weakened  the  doc- 
trine. 

The  same  systematic  character  marks  also  the 
theology  of  the  time,  which  is  simply  a  great  group- 
ing of  Catholic  dogmas,  each  of  which  is  consonant 
with  all  the  rest. 

To  sum  it  all  up,  then.  Need  of  universality, 
need  of  unity,  need  of  order;  the  whole  civilization 
is  athirst  for  them. 

II 

However,  this  passion  for  systematization,  by  its 
very  fascination,  sometimes  led  the  ablest  philoso- 
phers to  excess, — and  herein  lies  a  reason  for  a  cer- 
tain peculiarity  of  the  mediaeval  mind.  So  great 
was  this  felt  need  of  ordering  things,  that  some- 
times, in  the  lack  of  reasons  to  prove,  recourse  was 
had  to  fiction  to  please. 

The  astronomico-philosophical  conceptions  of 
the  thirteenth  century  furnish  a  striking  example 
of  this  fact.  For  the  men  of  the  time  the  earth  is 
the  centre  of  the  universe,  and  man  is  the  lord  of 
the  earth.  The  moon  and  the  planets  are  conceived 
as  fixed  in  their  divers  and  distant  spheres  and  as 

philosophers  invoke  this  principle,  and  each  adapts  it  to  his  own 
doctrines. 


112  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

describing  their  revolutions  around  the  earth;  with 
laborious  care  they  seek  to  reconcile  this  conception 
with  the  apparent  movements  of  the  heavens.  As 
regards  the  fixed  stars,  they  form  the  last  sphere 
of  the  world,  beyond  which  "place  or  locus  exists 
no  more,"  following  the  assertion  of  Aristotle, — 
they  think  of  them  as  held  permanently  in  place  by 
nails  of  gold  in  a  sky  of  crystal,  which  the  divine 
intelligences  cause  to  revol\^  in  their  daily  courses 
around  this  earth  of  ours,  and  around  man  who,  in 
the  last  analysis,  is  the  raison  d'etre  of  all.  And 
here  follows  a  series  of  postulates  which  are  made 
simply  to  satisfy  their  demand  for  synthesis, — 
postulates  which  rest  not  on  fact  but  on  feeling. 
Thus,  for  example,  it  is  thought  to  be  fitting  that 
the  heavens,  so  impressive  in  their  eternal  mystery, 
should  be  made  of  an  essence  superior  to  anything 
here  below.  And  being  superior,  it  is  equally  fitting 
that  they  should  have  an  influence  upon  terrestrial 
objects  and  direct  human  affairs.  Does  not  the 
superior,  writes  Thomas  Aquinas,  command  the  in- 
ferior? The  very  order  of  things  demands  it.  Or, 
once  again,  since  unity  is  a  more  perfect  thing  than 
plurality,  and  creation  is  perfect,  one  must  there- 
fore believe  in  the  unity  of  creation;  consequently 
a  plurality  of  worlds  is  rejected  as  discrediting  the 
work  of  God.  Undoubtedly  men  of  clear  vision 
saw  through  this  fragile  and  naive  conception  of 
the  structure  of  the  world;  certainly  in  a  few  well 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  113 

known  passages/^  Thomas  Aquinas  and  his  dis- 
ciple Giles  of  Lessines  observe  that  the  geo-centric 
system  is  only  an  hypothesis,  and  that  the  celestial 
movements  are  perhaps  susceptible  of  explanation 
by  theories  yet  to  be  discovered  by  man.  To  be 
sure,  Thomas  minimizes  the  influence  of  the  action 
of  the  heavens ;  he  restricts  this  action  to  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  human  body,  and  rejects  any  such  ac- 
tion upon  the  intellect  and  the  will.^^  Nevertheless, 
the  astronomico-philosophical  doctrines  are  admit- 
ted as  parts  of  the  whole,  because  their  incorpora- 
tion satisfies  the  need  of  unity.  Moreover,  they  are 
necessary  for  a  proper  understanding  of  their 
magic  and  alchemy, — or,  again,  of  the  interdiction 
by  the  University  of  Paris  against  the  astrology 
of  Roger  Bacon,  who  exaggerated  its  directive  in- 
fluence in  human  affairs. 

16  Thomas  Aquinas,  In  lib.  II  de  Coelo,  lectio  17.  About  1322  an 
unknown  teacher  taught  the  following  at  Paris:  quod  si  terra  move- 
retur  et  coelum  quiesceret,  esset  in  mundo  melior  dispositio  {cf.  P. 
Duhem,  "Francois  de  Mayronnes  et  la  rotation  de  la  terre,"  Archi- 
vum  Franscisanum  Historicum,  1913,  pp.  23-25).  Nicholas  of  Ores- 
mes  taught  the  same  doctrine  about  1362, — over  a  hundred  years 
before  the  birth  of  Copernicus   (1473). 

It  is  important  to  observe,  that  in  regard  to  astronomical  questions 
the  scholastics  of  the  thirteenth  century  had  more  liberal  ideas  than 
had  their  successors  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  latter  refused 
to  acknowledge  the  evidence  of  the  discoveries  made  by  the  tele- 
scope,— and  thus  they  helped  to  discredit  the  very  philosophy  of 
which  they  were  such  unworthy  successors. 

17  Summa  Theol.,  la  2ae,  p.  IX,  art.  5. 


114  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

III 

There  is  yet  another  mediaeval  doctrine  which 
sounds  strangely  to  our  modem  ears,  and  which 
furnishes  a  further  interesting  example  of  their 
felt  need  of  ordering  things.  I  refer  to  their  dream 
of  a  universal  brotherhood,  which  they  hoped  to 
realize  by  organizing  a  kind  of  Christian  republic, 
— a  republic  which  should  embrace  all  mankind. 

If  we  wish  to  understand  this  "society  of  man- 
kind," to  grasp  its  essential  point,  we  must  more 
than  ever  think  directly  in  the  mental  terms  of  the 
time.  Let  us  look  then  at  this  universitas  humana 
through  the  eyes  of  Dante  the  poet,  Thomas  Aqui- 
nas the  philosopher,  and  Innocent  IV  the  canonist. 
We  shall  find  that  in  its  theoretical  form  it  is  a  bril- 
liant manifestation  of  the  centripetal  tendencies  of 
the  time;  and  that  also  in  its  practical  form  it  ap- 
pears in  a  garb  which  well  suits  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. 

God  created  all  beings;  all  beings  are  subject  to 
His  providence.  He  is  the  Sovereign,  the  King  of 
the  universe.  Everywhere  in  His  kingdom  there  is 
a  certain  fixed  hierarchy  and  order;  yet  in  such 
wise  that  all  depends  upon  Him  and  tends  toward 
Him.  The  angels,  who  are  pure  spirit,  are  ar- 
ranged in  degrees  of  perfection,  but  are  all  in  His 
service  and  contemplate  His  infinitude.  Man,  who 
is  spirit  united  with  matter,  dwells  in  a  corporeal 
space,  the  earth,  awaiting  a  future  day  when  he 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  115 

shall  realize  the  supernatural  destiny  which  the  re- 
demption of  Christ  has  assured  him. 

Just  as  the  earth  is  the  centre  of  the  universe, 
so  man  is  the  lord  of  the  earth.  He  is  the  end  of 
creation,  and  the  most  perfect  image,  here  below, 
of  *God.  Man  is  like  a  little  world,  a  microcosmos. 
In  the  words  of  Dante  as  spokesman  for  his  age, 
man  resembles  the  horizon  where  two  hemispheres 
seem  to  meet.^^  Made  to  be  happy — for,  all  beings 
strive  toward  happiness — man  has  a  twofold  des- 
tiny :  a  temporal  end,  which  he  must  realize  here  on 
earth,  and  a  supernatural  end,  in  which  he  obtains 
a  perfect  vision  and  love  of  God,  but  the  right  of 
approach  to  which  he  must  gain  in  this  life.  Now, 
he  cannot  attain  this  temporal  end  and  prepare 
himself  for  the  supernatural  end,  unless  he  lives  in 
society.  Without  society,  he  cannot  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  the  material  life,  nor  develop  suffi- 
ciently his  personality.  He  is  a  social  animal,  ''ani- 
mal politicum/'^^ 

The  ideal,  as  Augustine  says  in  the  City  of  God, 
would  be  to  have  society  on  earth  an  exact  copy  of 
the  divine  city  where  all  is  peace  and  unity.  In  re- 
spect to  political  groups  that  are  larger  than  the 
family,  it  would  be  best  that  there  should  be  but 
one  in  the  whole  world.  But  such  unity  is  impos- 
sible, because  of  discussions  among  men;  masses  of 

18  "Recte  a  philosophis  assimilatur  horizonti  qui  est  medium   du- 
orura  hemisphaeriorum,"  De  Monarckia,  L.  III. 

19  See  below  ch.  X,  iii. 


116  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

men,  like  masses  of  water,  are  the  more  dangerous 
the  more  abundant  they  are.^°  If  there  were  no 
other  reason,  divergence  in  language  alone  would 
be  sufficient  cause  of  dissension — hominem  alienat 
ah  homine — for  a  man  has  a  better  understanding 
of  his  dog  than  of  another  man  who  does  not  under- 
stand his  language.  So,  different  kingdoms  are  re- 
quired, and  the  rivalries  between  these  involve  wars 
and  all  their  attendant  evils. 

The  philosophers,  theologians,  canonists,  jurists, 
and  pubhcists  of  the  thirteenth  century  reproduce 
all  these  doctrines  of  the  City  of  God,  which  pos- 
sessed such  a  fascination  for  the  whole  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  But  they  wish  to  correct  the  defects 
arising  from  the  plurality  of  the  states,  by  a  unify- 
ing theory,  the  universal  community  of  men,  hu- 
7tiana  universitas,  as  Dante  says.^^  They  wish,  at 
any  cost,  to  recover,  in  spite  of  the  several  king- 
doms, a  unity  of  direction,  such  as  guides  the  revo- 
lution of  the  spheres,  the  general  government  of  the 
universe.^^ 

No  one  at  that  time  doubted  that  man  had  a 

20  Post  civitatem  vel  urbem  sequitur  orbis  terrae,  in  quo  tertium 
gradum  ponunt  societatis  humanae,  incipientes  a  domo  atque  inde 
ad  urbem,  deinde  ad  orbem  progrediendo  venientes:  qui  utique,  sicut 
aquarum  congeries,  quanto  major  est,  tanto  periculis  plenior.  De 
Civitate  Dei,  XIX,  ch.  7. 

21  De  Monarchia,  Lib.  I. 

22  Humanum  genus  est  filius  coeli  quod  est  perfectissimum  .  .  . 
Et  cum  coelum  totum  unico  motu,  scilicet  primi  mobilis  et  unico 
motore  qui  Deus  est,  reguletur,  etc.     Ibid. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  117 

double  end  to  fulfill;  and  consequently  everybody 
admitted  that  there  must  be  in  human  society 
two  kinds  of  rule, — a  temporal  and  a  spiritual.  The 
spiritual  hierarchy  is  very  clearly  constituted: 
above  the  groups  in  parishes,  directed  by  the  rec- 
tors, are  the  bishops;  above  the  abbeys  directed  by 
the  abbots  are  the  heads  of  the  order;  above  all  is 
the  Pope,  who  represents  Christ  on  earth.  As  for 
the  temporal  domain,  above  single  states  which 
were  in  process  of  formation,  and  which,  for  the 
most  part,  were  governed  by  kings,  the  theorists 
proclaimed  the  rights  of  a  Single  Monarch.  This 
was  a  political  postulate.  It  was  the  Caesarian 
dream  which,  from  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  had 
haunted  the  mediaeval  mind,  and  which  was  never 
more  brilliantly  defended. 

One  may  read,  in  the  De  Monarchia  of  Dante, 
the  weighty  considerations  which  the  philosophical 
poet  urges  in  defense  of  the  universal  monarchy, 
the  political  panacea  which  was  to  restore  the 
golden  age  on  earth.  A  single  monarch,  raised 
above  the  different  kings  of  feudal  Europe,  was  re- 
quired to  effect  the  unification  of  human  society. 
There  was  no  other  method  of  establishing  unity 
among  the  scattered  groups  of  human  kind,  of  sub- 
ordinating the  parts  to  the  interest  of  all.^^ 

23  Constat  quod  totum  humane  genus  ordinatur  ad  unum  .  .  .  Partes 
humanae  universitatis  respondent  ad  ipsam  per  unum  principium.  .  .  . 
Humanum  genus  potest  regi  per  unum  principem  .  .  .  quod  potest  fieri 
per  unum  melius  est  fieri  per  unum  quam  per  plura.    Lib.  I,  passim. 


118  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

After  introducing  these  philosophical  considera- 
tions, Dante  enters  upon  the  practical  bearings  of 
the  problem.  This  is,  he  says,  the  only  method  of 
avoiding  contentions  in  the  world.  Since  he  would 
be  the  most  powerful  ruler  on  earth,  the  Single 
Monarch  must  necessarily  be  just,  and  exempt 
from  all  covetousness, — just  as  Plato's  ideal  philos- 
opher by  very  conception  must  practice  justice. 
For,  his  jurisdiction  would  not  be  like  those  of  the 
kings  of  Castile  and  Aragon,  whose  kingdom  is 
limited;  quite  the  contrary,  he  would  rule  from 
ocean  to  ocean. 

Not  that  the  universal  monarch  need  occupy  him- 
self with  each  municipality.  There  needs  must  be 
a  number  of  kingdoms ;  for  the  Scythians,  who  live 
in  a  country  where  the  days  and  the  night  are  un- 
equal, cannot  be  ruled  by  the  same  laws  as  the 
Garamantes  who  live  at  the  equinox.  Still  there 
are  interests  common  to  all  peoples,  and  these  can 
be  entrusted  only  to  a  single  ruler.^*  The  universal 
monarch  should  therefore  occupy  himself  above  all 
with  universal  peace,  and  it  is  from  him  that  the 
kings  of  the  single  states  should  receive  rules  for 
their  conduct  with  this  end  in  view.  Once  more  re- 
curring to  a  philosophical  comparison,  but  in  poeti- 
cal form,  he  says  that  this  rule  of  conduct,  to  insure 
harmony  among  mankind,  should  be  prescribed  by 

24  Ut  humanum  genus  secundum  sua  communia  quae  omnibus 
competunt  ab  eo  regatur  et  communi  regula  gubernetur  ad  pacem. 
Ibid, 


IN   THE   MIDDLE  AGES  119 

the  monarch  to  the  individual  kings,  just  as  the 
speculative  intellect  furnishes  to  the  practical  in- 
tellect the  principles  which  guide  our  actions.^^ 
And  Dante's  conclusion  is  that,  just  as  a  man's 
peace  with  himself  is  the  condition  of  his  personal 
happiness,  so  likewise  universal  peace,  pax  univer- 
salis, can  alone  realize  the  happiness  of  the  human 
race.  Apart  from  this,  Dante  says  nothing  as  to 
the  functions  of  this  guide,  arbiter,  and  judge. 
But  he  does  say  who  this  monarch  shall  be.  He  is 
to  be  the  German  Emperor,  consecrated  by  the 
Pope,  and  regarded  by  Dante  as  the  heir  of  the 
Caesars  and  of  Charlemagne.^^ 

But  another  question  created  a  divergence  of 
views  between  canonists  and  legists.  We  mention 
it  only  because  it  concerned  this  centripetal  ten- 
dency of  the  time,  this  fascination  of  unity;  and 
because,  too,  one  of  the  best  known  quarrels  of  the 
thirteenth  century  seems  to  us  clearly  connected 
with  the  philosophical  controversy  about  this  ideal 
human  society.  The  Empire  and  the  Papacy  be- 
ing distinct,  and  involving  two  heads,  there  was 
again  a  new  duality  which  must  be  reduced  at  any 
cost  to  an  inclusive  unity. 

Canonists,  such  as  Innocent  IV,  and  Johannes 

23  Constat    quod    totum    humane    genus    ordinatur    ad    unum  .  .  . 
Partes  humanae  universitatis  respondent  ad  ipsam  per  unum  prin- 
cipium.  .  .  .  Humanum  genus  potest  regi  per  unum  principem  .  .  . 
quod  potest  fieri  per  unum  melius  est  fieri  per  unum  quam  per  plura. 
Lib.  I,  passim. 

26  Lib.,  Ill,  De  Monarchia. 


120  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Andreae,  proclaimed  the  subordination  of  the  Em- 
peror to  the  Pope,  that  is,  of  the  temporal  power 
to  the  spiritual.  Christ,  they  said,  is  the  sole  King 
of  humanity,  and  the  Pope  is  his  viceroy  on  earth. 
Emperors  and  kings  cannot  exercise  temporal 
power  except  by  a  delegated  authority  which  is  al- 
ways revocable, — so  that  "the  principle  of  separa- 
tion was  applicable  merely  to  the  mode  in  which 
those  powers  were  to  be  exercised.""^ 

Not  so,  replied  Dante  with  all  the  legists.  We 
are  as  desirous  as  you  are  of  introducing  unity  of 
command  over  mankind,  but  this  unity  is  the  effect 
of  a  co-ordi7iation  between  two  distinct  powers, 
each  of  which  proceeds  directly  from  God.^^  '^Im- 
perium  et  Papae  aeque  principaliter  sunt  constituti 
a  Deo/'  and  'Hmperium  non  dependet  ah  ecclesia"'^ 
are  the  shibboleths  of  the  legists.  At  best,  adds 
Dante,  since  temporal  felicity  is  subordinated  to 
the  eternal,  the  Emperor  owes  a  certain  kind  of 
respect  to  the  Pope,  just  as  there  is  an  obligation 
upon  the  eldest  son  to  ensure  a  respectful  under- 
standing between  himself  and  the  head  of  the 
family.'' 

Thus,  for  the  legists  as  well  as  for  the  canonists, 

27  Gierke,  Political   Theories  of  the  Middle  Ages    (English  trans- 
lation by  F.  W.  Maitland),  Cambridge,  1900,  p.   12. 

28  De  Monarchia.     Lib.  III. 

29  Gierke,  op.  cit.,  p.  17  and  note  40. 

30  Ilia  igitur  reverentia  Caesar  utatur  ad   Petrum  qua  primogeni- 
tus  filius  debet  uti  ad  Patrem.     Lib.  III. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  121 

human  society  is  conceived  as  a  single  association 
in  which  order  prevails  throughout. 

Did  the  theory  of  the  universal  monarchy  as 
maintained  by  the  legists,  and  the  theory  of  the 
omnipotence  of  the  Pope  as  defended  by  the  canon- 
ists, remain  nothing  more  than  a  subtle  academical 
thesis?  Or  did  they  descend  from  theory  to  living 
practice?  History  gives  the  reply  to  these  ques- 
tions, and  it  is  sufficient  briefly  to  recall  the  facts. 

Under  the  name  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  the 
Emperors  of  Germany  sought  to  establish  a  hege- 
mony over  the  peoples  of  the  West.  They  main- 
tained, as  Dante  teaches  us,^^  that  they  were  the 
heirs  of  Charlemagne,  and  that  they  were  thus  the 
heirs  of  the  Roman  Caesars.  Hence  their  claims  to 
the  right  of  dominating  Italy  and  of  dictating  to 
the  princelings  (reguli)  of  the  West.  Hence  also 
the  enforced  claim,  by  the  ambitious  dynasty  of  the 
Saxons,  and  by  the  even  more  ambitious  d^oiastj^  of 
the  Hohenstaufen,  of  the  right  to  nominate  the 
bishops,  the  abbots,  and  even  the  Pope. 

Everyone  knows  what  the  result  was.  At  Ca- 
nossa  (1077)  Gregory  VII  breaks  the  power  of 
Henry  IV,  and  delivers  the  bishops  and  the  Papacy 
from  the  will  of  the  Emperors;  a  century  later 
Alexander  III  resists  the  claims  of  Frederic  Bar- 
barossa;  a  few  years  thereafter.  Innocent  III  re- 
verses the  roles,  and  disposes  of  the  imperial  crown 
to  whomsoever  he  will.    During  the  course  of  the 

31  Ibid.,  Lib.  II,  III. 


122  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

thirteenth  century,  the  Emperor,  in  the  person  of 
Frederic  II,  is  definitely  defeated.  The  kings  of 
Europe,  however,  continue  vigorously  their  resis- 
tance to  the  interference  of  the  Emperors.  And 
even  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, Antoninus  of  Florence  points  to  the  same  fact, 
when  he  says:  "Although  all  the  secular  lords  and 
kings  should  be  subjected  to  the  Emperor,  there 
are,  however,  many  kings  who  do  not  recognize  him 
as  their  superior,  invoking  either  a  privilege  or  an- 
other kind  of  right,  or  the  simple  fact,  as  for  in- 
stance the  King  of  France,  the  doge  of  Venice  and 
certain  other  lords. "^^  It  might  be  added,  that  the 
German  Emperor  was  not  the  only  one  who  as- 
serted a  right  to  the  title  of  heir  of  Charlemagne, 
and  that  certain  kings — for  instance  Louis  VII  of 
France — laid  claim,  though  in  vain,  to  the  same 
right.  At  all  events,  the  Hohenstaufen  did  not 
succeed  in  playing  the  role  of  peacemakers,  such  as 
Dante  assigned  to  the  universal  monarch.  Far 
from  being  agents  of  peace,  they  passed  their  lives 
in  making  wars  in  all  possible  directions.  Pan- 
germanic  supremacy  in  the  thirteenth  century  suf- 
fered complete  bankruptcy. 

The  fact  was  that  the  true  agents  of  internation- 
alism were  the  Popes,  the  representatives  of  the 

32  "Quum  omnes  domini  et  reges  seculares  deberent  esse  sub  Im- 
peratore,  multi  tamen  reges  non  cognoscunt  eum  iit  superioreni 
suum,  tuentes  se  vel  privilegio,  sive  alio  jure  vel  potius  de  facto,  ut 
rex  Franciae  et  dux  Venetiarum  et  alii  domini."  Summa  Theologica, 
Titulus  III.     De  dominis  temporalibus,  C.  1. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  123 

theocracy,  which  attained  during  the  thirteenth 
century  its  greatest  extent  of  authority.  The  kind 
of  internationahsm  imposed  by  the  Popes  upon 
Christian  nations,  which  were  indistinguishable 
from  the  civihzed  world,  was  based  upon  the  catho- 
licity of  the  Christian  faith  and  morality,  and  upon 
the  discipline  of  the  Roman  Church.  Catholicity 
means  universality.  One  head  recognized  by  all  is 
the  guardian  of  the  great  ideal  by  which  the  society 
of  the  time  is  guided.  Gregory  VII  had  already 
planned  the  deliverance  of  Jerusalem  and  the  re- 
storation of  the  Church  of  Africa.^^  His  successors 
organized  and  encouraged  the  Crusades.  Innocent 
III  made  use  of  the  new  mendicant  orders  for  in- 
ternational and  Catholic  purposes.  Doubtless 
there  were  plenty  of  heresies  after  the  middle  of 
the  twelfth  century;  they  underlay  society  like  the 
ground-swell  of  the  ocean,  not  breaking  through 
to  the  surface.  The  thirteenth  century  had  not  yet 
heard  the  warnings  of  the  great  displacements 
which  were  to  come,  and  the  Catholic  faith  pre- 
served its  internationalism,  thanks  to  the  prestige 
of  the  Papacy. 

As  guardian  of  the  faith  and  morality  of  the 
time,  the  Pope  was  also  absolute  master  of  disci- 
pline. The  most  autocratic  form  of  the  pontifical 
authority  was  attained  by  Innocent  III.     He  in- 

33  Rocquain,  La  cour  de  Rome  et  V esprit  de  R^ forme  avant  Luther. 
vol,  I.  "La  Theocratic,  apogee  du  Pouvoir  Pontifical,"  Paris,  Thorin, 
1893,  p.  48. 


124  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

tervened  time  and  again  in  the  government  of  the 
individual  dioceses.  All  kinds  of  cases  could  be 
brought  before  him;  his  decisions  were  universal 
and  supreme.^*  Innumerable  appeals  were  made 
to  his  decisions.  The  moment  came  when  Innocent 
III  thought  he  could  restore  the  schismatic  Church 
of  the  Orient  to  his  obedience.  He  could  see  upon 
the  episcopal  throne  of  Constantinople  a  partriarch 
who  recognized  his  authority.  The  Serbs  and  the 
Bulgarians  did  him  homage,  and  it  seemed  for  a 
moment  that  the  Russians  would  follow  their  ex- 
ample. 

At  this  point,  it  is  clear  that  the  Pope  not  only 
affirmed  his  super-national  role,  as  head  of  the 
Church,  but  also  his  role  as  arbiter  of  European 
politics,  and  as  the  guardian  of  international  mo- 
rality. He  did  not  limit  himself  to  the  defense 
and  extension  of  the  temporal  patrimony,  but  pro- 
claimed himself  the  sovereign  of  all  Christendom, 
by  invoking  the  principle  "that  the  church  has  the 
supreme  right  over  the  countries  upon  which  she 
has  conferred  the  benefit  of  Christian  civilization." 
"Christ,"  as  Gregory  VII  wrote  in  1075,  "substi- 
tuted his  reign  on  earth  for  that  of  the  Caesars,  and 
the  pontiffs  of  Rome  have  ruled  more  states  than 
the  Emperors  ever  possessed."^^  By  virtue  of  this 
doctrine,  his  successors  recognize  kings,  or  absolve 
their  subjects  from  their  duties  of  obedience;  they 

^^  Ibid.,  54,  412;  Rocquain,  La  papaute  au  moyen  dge,  1881,  p.  162. 
35  Ep.  II,  75.     Cf.  Roquain,  op.  cit.,  p.  54. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  125 

confer  feudal  possessions ;  they  make  themselves  the 
judges  of  the  election  of  the  German  Emperors; 
they  receive  the  homage  of  the  great  of  the  earth; 
those  smitten  with  excommunication  tremble  with 
fear.  ^^i.    ^ 

*  This  political  supremacy  was  far  from  being 
pleasing  to  all  the  secular  princes.  History  is 
filled  with  the  record  of  their  resistance ;  and  every- 
one knows  the  reply  which  Philip  Augustus  made 
to  the  legates  of  Innocent  III:  "The  Pope  has  no 
right  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  which  take  place  be- 
tween kings."^"^  But  even  when  rising  against  the 
Popes,  kings  respected  the  Papacy.  We  see  this 
clearly  when  Innocent  protested  against  the  divorce 
by  Philip  Augustus  of  his  first  queen,  excommuni- 
cated the  king,  and  obliged  him  to  take  back  his 
lawful  wife.  Although  in  various  other  cases  he 
abused  his  authority,  this  act  of  the  Pope,  in  con- 
demning the  violation  of  the  moral  law  by  a  great 
king,  is  one  of  the  noblest  instances  of  the  exercise 
of  his  theocratic  power.  Likewise,  he  was  respected 
when  he  intervened  to  prevent  wars  which  he  held 
to  be  unjust,  and  when  he  resorted  to  arbitration  in 
order  to  put  an  end  to  dispute.  Over  the  society 
of  states  as  well  as  that  of  individuals  he  exercised 
supreme  authority.  "Each  king  has  his  kingdom," 
wrote  Innocent  III,  "but  Peter  has  the  pre-emi- 

36  Paul  Janet,  Histoire   de   la  science  "politique   clans   ses  rapports 
avec  la  morale,  Paris,  1887,  vol.  I,  p.  350. 


126  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

nence  over  all,  inasmuch  as  he  is  the  vicar  of  Him 
who  governs  the  earth  and  all  that  is  therein. "^^ 

After  this  statement  of  historical  facts,  it  seems 
superfluous  to  point  out  that  the  humana  universi- 
tas  of  the  thirteenth  century  did  not  constitute  a 
society  of  nations  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term. 
It  could  not  be  more  than  a  society  of  the  Euro- 
pean states  as  they  then  existed,  each  more  or  less 
unformed  and  including  heterogeneous  races  and 
diverse  languages.^^ 

Augustine  has  left  to  us  this  fine  definition  of 
peace:  it  is  order  which  gives  us  tranquillity,  jpaoc 
omnium  rerum  tranquilitas  or  dims. ^^  Once  every- 
thing is  in  place,  and  each  thing  is  as  it  ought  to 
be,  a  grateful  repose  hovers  over  all.  The  whole 
thirteenth  century  is  under  the  influence  of  this 
formula.  All  the  human  sciences,  present  and  to 
come,  have  their  place  marked  out  in  the  classifica- 
tion of  knowledge;  all  the  problems  of  philosophy 
had  engaged  them,  and  they  had  been  worked  out 
and  co-ordinated  in  the  dominating  scholastic  phi- 
losophy; all  that  art  could  endow  with  beauty  was 
reassembled  in  the  cathedrals;  all  the  great  social 
factors  which  enter  into  the  life  of  a  state  were 
combined  in  equilibrium ;  and  the  theorists  dreamed 
of  a  universal  society  of  mankind.  Everybody  be- 
lieved, and  believed  with  conviction,  that  the  world 

37  Rocquain,  o'p.  cit.,  p.  358. 

38  Compare  below  ch.  XI. 

39  De  Civitate  Dei,  Lib.  XIX,  cap.  13. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  127 

had  arrived  at  a  state  of  repose  as  the  end  of  its 
destined  course.  To  them  as  to  the  contemporaries 
of  Augustus,  or  of  Louis  XIV,  a  stability  ap- 
proaching close  to  perfection  seemed  to  have  been 
attained.  A  general  feeling  of  content  prevailed, 
and  this  state  of  complacency  continued  for  a  full 
hundred  years  after  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century. 

IV 

In  the  light  of  this  tendency  toward  unity,  we 
can  better  understand  another  aspect  of  the  mediae- 
val civilization;  an  aspect  which  permeates  all  de- 
partments of  their  social  life,  and  which  appears 
also  in  the  two  outstanding  facts  of  their  philoso- 
phical activity  already  noticed.  This  other  aspect 
is:  cosmopolitanism, — their  tendency  to  evaluate 
by  a  universal  standard. 

The  classification  of  knowledge  which  we  have 
referred  to*^  is  not  a  matter  of  some  individual  con- 
ception, as  was  the  effort  made  by  Auguste  Comte 
or  Ampere  or  Herbert  Spencer;  on  the  contrary, 
the  results  are  accepted  by  the  general  consensus 
of  learned  opinion. 

The  twelfth  century  groping  has  disappeared, — 
the  attempts  of  Radulfus  Ardens,  and  even  of  the 
Didascalion  of  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  and  of  the 
numerous  anonymous  classifications  of  that  cen- 
tury.    The  treatises  of  the  thirteenth  century  deal 

40  See  above  ch.  IV,  v. 


128  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

definitely  with  methodology.  Thus,  for  example, 
the  de  divisione  philosophiae/'^  which  Dominicus 
Gundissalinus  wrote  at  Toledo  about  1150  under 
the  influence  of  Aristotle  and  the  Arabs,  pursues 
in  detail  the  relation  of  the  sciences  to  philosophy 
and  the  superposition  of  the  various  branches  of 
philosophy.  And  the  work  of  Michael  Scot,  one  of 
his  successors  at  the  Institute  of  Toledo  is  inspired 
by  the  ideas  of  Gundissalinus.  Again,  there  was 
the  important  work  of  Robert  Kilwardby,  the  de 
ortu  et  divisione  philosophiae^^  (written  about 
1250,  and  perhaps  the  most  noteworthy  introduc- 
tion to  philosophy  produced  in  the  Middle  Ages)  ; 
this  work  perfects  the  outline  of  his  master  of  To- 
ledo, and  while  it  introduces  certain  distinctions,  it 
adds  nothing  new,  and  does  not  pretend  to  do  so. 
Further,  the  same  classification  is  found  in  the 
covipilatio  de  libiis  naturalibus/^  written  by  an 
anonymous  author  of  the  thirteenth  century,  which 
makes  a  place  therein  for  the  works  of  Aristotle 
and  of  the  Arabians;  and  the  plan  therein  fol- 
lowed is  in  accord  with  the  program  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Paris  which  was  pubhshed  in  1255.** 

41  L.  Baur,  "Gundissalinus,  De  divisione  philosophiae,"  Baiimker's- 
Beitrdge,  1903,  IV. 

42  L.  Baur,  "Die  philosophische  Werke  des  Robert  Grosseteste, 
Bischofs  von  Lincoln,"  BaUmker's-J5 ei^rd^e,  1912,  IV. 

43  M.  Grabmann,  "Forschungen  liber  die  lateinischen  Aristoteles- 
Ubersetzungen  des  XIH  Jahrhunderts,"  Baumker's-Bet7m^c,  1916, 
XVII,  h.  5,  6. 

44  See  further  my  study:  "The  Teaching  of  Philosophy  and  the 
Classification  of  the  Sciences  in  the  Thirteenth  Century,"  Philosophi- 
cal Review,  July,  1918. 


IN   THE   MIDDLE  AGES  129 

In  short,  one  finds  the  same  classification  in  all 
the  writers  of  the  period, — in  Robert  Grosseteste, 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Bonaventure,  Siger  of  Brabant, 
Duns  Scotus,  Roger  Bacon  and  others;  their 
knowledge  is  all  run  into  the  same  mould.  Dante 
refers  to  this  classification  at  the  beginning  of  his 
treatise  De  Monarchia.  It  exists  not  only  in  the 
program  of  studies  at  the  University  of  Paris,  but 
it  is  found  also  at  Oxford  and  at  Cambridge; — 
moreover,  it  is  the  basis  of  private  instruction.  I 
have  found  it  also  in  a  treatise  as  yet  unedited,  the 
speculum  divinorum  et  quorumdam  naturalium 
which  was  written  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  by  Henry  Bate  of  Malines,  for  the  use  of 
Count  Gui  of  Hainaut,  whose  instruction  he  had 
undertaken;  it  is  one  of  the  few  pedagogical  treat- 
ises of  that  century  written  for  the  use  of  a  lay 
prince.*^  This  classification  constitutes  the  frame- 
work for  the  various  doctrines;  and,  indeed,  such 
divergent  philosophical  systems  as  those  of  Tho- 
mism  and  Averroism,  for  example,  are  readily  in- 
cluded within  it, — much  as  plants  essentially  differ- 
ent may  grow  in  the  same  soil.  It  is,  so  to  speak, 
the  atmosphere  in  which  all  the  systems  are  im- 
mersed, the  common  mental  life  which  hovers  over 
systems  and  parts  of  systems.  It  was  not  the  habit 
in  those  days  for  one  set  of  thinkers  designedly  to 
destroy  the  presuppositions  built  up  by  another 

45  See  my  study:  "Henri  Bate  de  Malines"  {Bulletin  de  L'Acad4- 
mie  royale  de  Belgique,  1907). 


130  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

set;  they  lacked  that  spirit  of  negation  which  later 
became  so  characteristic  of  modern  philosophers. 

This  cosmopolitan  tendency  in  evaluating  was 
also  the  result  of  the  remarkably  widespread  agree- 
ment with  the  one  dominant  philosophy, — that  is, 
the  scholastic  philosophy.  This  great  system  had 
its  rise  at  Paris,  the  "cosmopolis  of  philosophy," 
and  there,  after  a  crisis  in  its  development,  it  at- 
tained its  full  growth  and  displayed  the  plentitude 
of  its  power.  The  existence  of  this  coromon  centre 
of  learning,  especially  of  speculative  thought,  con- 
tributed in  a  large  measure  to  safeguard  for  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  the  unity  of  doctrine.  From  Paris 
this  philosophy  spread  in  great  waves  to  Oxford 
and  Cambridge,  to  Italy,  to  Germany,  to  Spain 
and  everywhere.  Borne  on  the  wings  of  French  in- 
fluence, it  became  international.  It  reunited  the 
numerous  host  of  those  who  were  loyal  to  philoso- 
phy, and  so  it  can  lay  claim  to  the  greatest  names, — 
in  England,  Alexander  of  Hales  and  Duns  Scotus, 
in  Italy,  Bonaventure  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  the 
Flemish  Henri  of  Ghent,  and  the  Spanish  Lully, 
each  of  whom  gave  it  his  own  interpretation  and 
marked  it  with  his  own  personality.  Thus,  the  en- 
tire West  accepted  the  same  explanation  of  the 
world,  the  same  idea  of  life.  Of  course  the  same 
was  true  for  theology,  both  speculative  and  mysti- 
cal. Such  unity  of  thought  has  seldom  existed  in 
the  history  of  mankind.  It  occurred  in  the  third 
century  of  our  era, — at  the  time  of  the  glory  of  the 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  131 

Neo-Platonic  philosophy.  And  since  the  thirteenth 
century,  this  phenomenon  has  never  repeated  it- 
self. 

Far  from  being  an  anachronism,  this  remarkable 
fact  of  universal  agreement  in  the  West  satisfies  the 
profound  aspirations  of  the  time.  For,  there  was 
one  system  of  education  for  princes,  lords  and 
clerks ;  one  sacred  and  learned  language,  the  Latin ; 
one  code  of  morals;  one  ritual;  one  hierarchy,  the 
Church ;  one  faith  and  one  common  western  interest 
against  heathendom  and  against  Islam;  one  com- 
munity on  earth  and  in  heaven,  the  community  of 
the  saints ;  and  also  one  system  of  feudal  habits  for 
the  whole  West.  Customs,  characteristic  of  the 
courtesy  and  chivalry  which  were  born  in  France 
in  the  preceding  century,  had  spread  to  all  coun- 
tries, and  had  created  among  the  nobility  of  the 
various  nations  a  sort  of  kindred  spirit.  The  net- 
work of  feudalism  embraced  all  social  classes,  and 
everywhere  the  system  had  common  features.  The 
Crusades  had  taught  the  barons  to  know  each  other. 
Commerce,  also,  established  points  of  contact  be- 
tween the  French  and  the  English  and  the  Flem- 
ish and  the  Italians,  and  predisposed  men  to  a 
mode  of  thinking,  which  was  no  longer  local. 
Everywhere  work  was  organized  on  the  principles 
of  guild  and  corporation. 

The  rapid  expansion  of  Gothic  art  is  another  ex- 
ample of  the  felt  need  of  a  conception  of  beauty  not 
limited  to  any  one  people.    A  marvelous  architec- 


132  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ture  and  sculpture  saw  the  light  of  day  in  the  Isle 
of  France.     The  cathedrals  of  Sens,  Noyon,  Sen- 
lis,  Laon,  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,  Chartres,  Aux- 
erre,  Rouen,  Rheims,  Amiens,  Bourges  were  then 
either  in  process  of  building  or  completed.     The 
garland  of  masterpieces,  begun  under  Louis  VII 
in  northern  and  central  Europe,  and  by  Henry  II 
Plantagenet  in  the  West,  was  completed  and  en- 
riched under  Philip  Augustus;  and  the  forms  of 
the   pointed   arch   attained  then   a   purity   and   a 
beauty  which  have  never  been  surpassed.    The  new 
style  of  art  passed  almost  immediately  to  the  Eng- 
Hsh  cathedrals  of  Canterbury,  Lincoln,  Westmin- 
ster, and  York.    In  Spain,  the  cathedral  of  Burgos 
(1230)  was  inspired  by  that  of  Bourges;  the  cathe- 
dral of  Toledo  was  due  to  a  French  architect;  the 
cathedral  of  Leon,  the  most  perfect  of  all,  was  built 
on  the  basis  of  French  ideas; — and  the  same  is  true 
also  of  the  German  Gothic  style  generally, — thus, 
for  example,  the  cathedrals  of  Miinster,  Madge- 
burg,  Cologne,  and  Bamberg  were  patterned  after 
French  standards,  and  the  pointed  arch  is  definitely 
called  "French  style"  by  the  builders  of  the  Wimp- 
fen  cathedral,  opus  francigemwi.*^'     As  Male  has 
so  well  shown,  the  new  art  became  "oecumenical."*^ 

f6  Compare  the  interesting  work  of  E.  Male,  L'nrt  allemand  et 
Vart  frangais  du  moijen  age,  Paris,  1917.  At  Wimpfen,  the  priest 
Richard  summons  an  architect  "qui  tunc  noviter  de  villa  parisiensi 
e  partibus  venerat  franciae,  opere  francigeno  basilicam  e  sectis  lapid- 
ibus  construi  jubet,"  p.  148. 

47  Male,  L'art  religieux  du  13*  siecle  en  France,  p.  5. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  133 

We  also  observe  a  kind  of  uniformity,  the  cos- 
mopolitanism of  which  we  have  been  speaking,  in 
the  political  institutions  of  the  European  states 
which  were  then  in  process  of  formation.  Every- 
where this  process  proceeds  on  the  same  general 
principle, — the  feudal  monarchy,  a  representative 
system  of  government. 

Finally,  as  we  have  already  seen,*^  the  Popes 
were  genuine  cosmopolitan  forces  of  a  practical 
kind;  for  in  their  view  the  society  of  mankind  was 
to  be  extended  universally. 

In  conclusion,  it  should  be  stated,  the  foregoing 
does  not  imply  that  the  mentality  of  the  thirteenth 
century  was  on  a  dead  level  of  uniformity.  By  no 
means.  Human  nature  is  always  complex;  and  no 
matter  how  general  a  phenomenon  may  be  in  any 
condition  of  society,  there  always  arise  by  the  side 
of  it  certain  secondary  phenomena  of  a  contradic- 
tory character.  Of  these  account  should  of  course 
be  taken, — but  without  exaggerating  their  signifi- 
cance or  bearing.  It  will  always  be  true  that  moth- 
ers in  general  love  their  children,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  some  heartless  mothers  exist.  Just  so, 
respect  for  authority  was  prevalent  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  in  spite  of  the  evidence  of  some 
germs  of  rebellion  against  the  discipline  of  the 
Church  and  the  power  of  the  State.  The  unity  of 
the  catholic  faith  was  not  prejudiced  by  the  various 
heresies  and  superstitious  practices ;  nor  did  the  ex- 

48  See  above,  pp.  132-126. 


134  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

cesses  of  some  barons  weaken  the  virtues  of  the 
feudal  customs.  The  protests  of  a  small  group  of 
zealous  mystics  against  the  rich  decoration  of  the 
churches  did  not  annul  the  delight  of  the  whole 
age  with  the  beauty  of  their  original  art;  nor  did 
the  low  morality  of  some  of  the  clergy  serve  as  a 
general  detriment  to  the  purity  of  life  in  that  class. 

The  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  cannot  be  gath- 
ered accurately  out  of  a  mere  catalogue  of  anec- 
dotes, nor  from  the  exclusive  perusal  of  satirists, 
preachers  and  fable-writers,  nor  again  from  the  his- 
tory of  certain  chroniclers  and  writers,  whose  tem- 
perament or  office  might  prompt  them  to  exagger- 
ate. On  the  contrary,  the  real  task  and  point  is  to 
ascertain  whether  these  facts  and  anecdotes  and 
caricatures  (whose  name  is  legion)  describe  the 
usual  or  the  exceptional  instances;  whether  they 
are  mainly  characteristic  of  the  period;  and  whether 
they  reach  and  express  the  real  depths  of  the  me- 
diaeval soul. 

So  also  in  philosophy,  a  few  isolated  instances  of 
scepticism  do  not  derogate  from  the  general  doc- 
trinal assurance  which  is  characteristic  of  the  me- 
diaeval philosophers.  And  similarly  the  great 
number  of  systems  of  thought,  and  the  atmosphere 
of  emulation  in  which  they  were  conceived,  can  be 
readily  reconciled  with  the  predominance  of  a  phi- 
losophy which  was  truly  cosmopolitan, — as  was  the 
scholastic  philosophy. 


CHAPTER  SIX 


Optimism  and  Impersonajlity 

i.  Optimism  in  philosophy,  in  art,  in  religion,  ii.  Imper- 
sonality, iii.  History  of  philosophy  and  literary  attribution, 
iv.  Perenniality. 


The  optimism  of  the  mediaeval  mind  is  another 
feature  which  stands  out  as  distinctive  of  the 
whole  civilization.  The  thirteenth  century  is  a  con- 
structive period  in  every  domain.  But  such  exer- 
cise of  constructive  powers  and  such  realization  in 
practice  involved  confidence  in  human  resources  and 
capacities.  That  confidence  the  age  possessed 
abundantly.  Not  only  had  it  a  passion  for  ideals, 
but  it  knew  how  to  realize  them  in  concrete  form 
and  in  practical  life. 

When  dealing  with  scientific  classifications  and 
philosophical  systems,  optimism  means  confidence 
in  the  powers  of  reason,  serenity  in  intellectual 
work.  Without  such  confidence,  could  they  have 
found  the  courage  to  set  in  order  all  the  human  sci- 
ences, and  especially  could  they  have  spent  their 
energies  in  meticulously  ordering  the  manifold 
parts  of  a  system  so  extensive  as  is  the  scholastic 
philosophy? 

135 


136  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

They  were  in  no  doubt  concerning  the  power  of 
the  reason  to  grasp  external  realities,  to  know 
everything  to  some  extent.^  Subjectivism,  which 
confines  the  mind  within  the  closed  circle  of  its  im- 
pressions, was  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  the  times. 
Thus,  when  Nicholas  of  Autrecourt,  called  some- 
times the  Hume  of  the  thirteenth  century,  taught 
in  Paris  that  the  existence  of  the  external  world 
cannot  be  demonstrated,  that  the  principle  of  caus- 
ality is  without  objective  validity,  he  was  plainly 
an  exception;  and  so  he  was  regarded  as  an  ama- 
teur in  paradoxes.  The  cultivated  minds  of  the  age 
relied  upon  human  reason  unanimously.  Frankly 
dogmatic,  the  scholastic  philosophy  considers  hu- 
man intelligence  to  have  been  created  to  know  the 
truth,  just  as  fire  was  made  to  burn.  To  be  sure, 
the  philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  century  believe 
that  human  intelligence  has  its  limits, — it  knows 
all  things  in  a  very  imperfect  manner — but  within 
these  limits  they  give  it  full  credence ;  it  is  for  them 
a  spark  lighted  at  the  torch  of  eternal  truth.  This 
conception  of  certitude  neither  includes  nor  ex- 
cludes our  modern  epistemology ;  like  all  that  be- 
longs to  the  mediaeval  genius  it  is  sui  geneiis. 

Scholasticism  is  not  less  optimistic  in  its  moral 
teachings.  It  makes  happiness  to  consist  in  the 
fullest  possible  development  of  personality.  It 
teaches  that  nothing  can  efface  from  conscience  the 
fundamental  principles  of  moral  law.    It  maintains, 

1  See  ch.  VIH,  i  and  ii. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  137 

accordingly,  that  even  the  most  wicked  man  still  re- 
tains a  fundamental  tendency  toward  goodness, — 
a  tendency  which  renders  his  improvement  always 
possible.^ 

In  the  realm  of  art,  optimism  and  serenity 
are  still  more  evident;  for  art  springs  from  the 
heart,  which  realizes  joy  even  better  than  the  spirit. 
There  appear  in  the  Chansons  de  geste  a  joy  of  liv- 
ing and  a  freshness  of  imagery  which  enrich  the 
love  between  knights  and  ladies,  an  exhalation  of 
nature  which  reveals  the  profound  happiness  felt  in 
living  in  the  midst  of  its  bovmties  and  wonders.  We 
all  know  what  clear  and  vibrating  poems  the  "Lit- 
tle Flowers"  of  St.  Francis  are,  and  how  they  ex- 
press as  does  the  Divine  Comedy  of  Dante,  not  only 
a  glorification  of  the  Divine  Creation  and  of  the 
Redemption,  but  also  songs  of  delight  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  spectacle  of  nature. 

Is  it  necessary  to  mention  the  Gothic  cathedrals, 
as  they  too  sing  a  hymn  of  joy,  the  triumph  of  na- 
ture and  of  God?  Their  lofty  arches  fl^ooded  with 
light,  their  windows  sparkling  in  the  sun  like  ori- 
ental tapestry,  their  noble  and  expressive  vaults, 
their  profusion  of  paintings  and  of  figures  and  of 
symbols, — this  is  not  the  work  of  men  who  are  skep- 
tical of  Hfe.  The  sculptors  of  the  Middle  Ages 
"looked  on  the  world  with  the  wondering  eyes  of 
children."  They  depict  nature  in  its  perfection  of 
beauty. 

2  See  below,  p.  270. 


138  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Finally,  a  still  more  elevated  motive  stimulates 
the  optimistic  view  of  life  in  society  at  large.  It 
is  Christian  idealism,^the  hope  of  future  happi- 
ness, the  belief  in  the  religious  value  of  work  ac- 
complished. Can  we  explain  in  any  other  way, 
the  wonderful  exploits  of  optimism  shown  in  the 
Crusades  ?  How  closely  they  press  upon  each  other 
in  that  long  succession!  In  spite  of  the  hugeness 
of  the  enterprise,  or  the  lack  of  success  in  each  of 
those  attempts,  still  the  Crusades  continued  to 
arouse  an  ever-recurring  enthusiasm.  They  have 
been  well  called  "epopees  of  optimism." 

II 

Another  feature  which  is  closely  connected  with 
the  optimism  of  the  scholastics  and  which  requires 
equal  emphasis,  is  the  impersonal  character  of  their 
work,  a  certain  spirit  of  personal  detachment  which 
pervades  also  their  scholarly  labors, — whether  in 
the  classification  of  human  knowledge,  or  the  great 
system  of  scholastic  philosophy.  Both  their  optim- 
ism and  their  impersonalism  are  simply  the  product 
of  a  consciously  progressive  and  collective  effort. 

Indeed  the  thirteenth  century  was  possessed  of  a 
significant  conception  regarding  truth.  Truth  is 
a  great  edifice  to  be  gradually  built  up.  This  work 
is  necessarily  co-operative  and  over  a  long  period 
of  time;  and  therefore  it  must  be  entered  into  im- 
personally by  each  worker.  The  truth,  and  the 
knowledge  which  expresses  it,  is  not  considered  as 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  139 

the  personal  property  of  him  who  finds  it.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  great  common  patrimony  which 
passes  from  one  generation  to  the  next,  ever  in- 
creased by  continuous  and  successive  contributions. 
"So  shall  it  be  to  the  end  of  the  world,"  says  Roger 
Bacon,  "because  nothing  is  perfect  in  human 
achievements."  And  he  goes  on  to  say:  "Always 
those  who  come  later  have  added  to  the  work  of 
their  predecessors;  and  they  have  corrected  and 
changed  a  great  deal,  as  we  see  especially  in  the  case 
of  Aristotle,  who  took  up  and  discussed  all  the  ideas 
of  his  predecessors.  Moreover,  many  of  the  state- 
ments of  Aristotle  were  corrected  in  turn  by  Avi- 
cenna  and  by  Averroes.""^  Nor  does  Thomas  Aqui- 
nas speak  otherwise  of  the  impersonal  constitution 
of  philosophy  and  of  its  improvement.  Referring 
to  Aristotle's  Metaphysics,  he  writes:  "That  which 
a  single  man  can  bring,  through  his  work  and  his 
genius,  to  the  promotion  of  truth  is  little  in  com- 
parison with  the  total  of  knowledge.  However, 
from  all  these  elements,  selected  and  co-ordinated 
and  brought  together,  there  arises  a  marvelous 
thing,  as  is  shown  by  the  various  departments  of 
learning,  which  by  the  work  and  sagacity  of  many 
have  come  to  a  wonderful  augmentation."* 

3  Nam  semper  posteriores  addiderunt  ad  opera  priorum,  et  multa 
correxerunt,  et  plura  mulaverunt,  sicut  patet  per  Aristotelem,  max- 
ime,  qui  omnes  sententias  praecedentium  discussit.  Et  etiam  Avic- 
cenna  et  Averroes  plura  de  dictis  ejus  correxerunt,  Opus  Ma  jus, 
Pars  I,  c.  6  (ed.  Bridges,  vol.  Ill,  p.  14). 

4  In  lib.  II  Metaphys.,  Lectio  1. 


140  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Do  not  these  declarations  call  to  mind  the  beauti- 
ful thought  of  Pascal,  who  also  reflected  deeply  and 
shrewdly  on  the  role  of  tradition  in  the  continuity 
of  philosophy.  "It  is  owing  to  tradition,"  he  says, 
"that  the  whole  procession  of  men  in  the  course  of 
so  many  centuries  may  be  considered  as  a  single 
man,  who  always  subsists,  who  learns  continually."^ 
There  is,  then,  no  break  in  the  continuity  of  philos- 
ophy, any  more  than  there  is  in  the  other  depart- 
ments of  civilization;  and  a  chain  of  gold  joins  the 
Greeks  to  the  Syrians,  the  Syrians  to  the  Arabs, 
and  the  Arabs  to  the  Scholastics. 

The  impersonality  of  scholastic  philosophy  is 
further  revealed  in  the  fact  that  those  who  build  it 
disclose  nothing  of  their  inner  and  emotional  life. 
Works  like  the  autobiography  of  Abaelard  are  as 
exceptional  as  the  Confessions  of  Augustine.  Only 
the  mystics  speak  of  that  which  passes  in  the  soul's 
inmost  life.  In  the  voluminous  works  of  Thomas 
Aquinas,  for  instance,  there  is  only  a  single  passage 
where  the  philosopher  exhibits  any  emotions;^ 
everywhere  else  his  thought  runs  without  haste  or 
emotion,  as  tranquil  and  as  majestic  as  a  river. 

Ill 

The  thirteenth  century  drew  from  these  princi- 
ples, in  the  form  of  corollaries,  its  characteristic 

5  Pascal,  Opuscules,  edit.  Brunschvigg,  p.  80. 

6  De  unitate  intellectus  contra  Averroistas,  (in  fine),  where  his  in- 
dignation is  deeply  stirred. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  141 

views  concerning  the  history  of  philosophy  and  lit- 
erary attribution.  The  determination  of  historical 
fact  and  authorship  is  subordinated  to  the  truth 
which  the  scholastics  are  concerned  to  advance;  the 
determination  of  fact  has  no  absolute  value  as  such. 
Consequently,  they  confine  themselves  to  seeking, 
from  the  authorities  they  refer  to,  a  support  for  the 
thesis  they  wish  to  defend. 

From  this  attitude  arises  the  tendency  of  the 
mediaeval  thinker  to  attenuate,  and  even  to  sup- 
press, all  doctrinal  divergencies, — such  as  those  of 
Plato,  of  Aristotle,  of  Augustine,  of  Isidore  of 
Seville,  of  the  venerable  Bede,  of  Anselm  of  Can- 
terbury. Are  not  all  these  co-workers  in  a  common 
task?  To  understand  this,  one  must  study  not  the 
common  and  stock  phrases  quoted  by  all,  but  rather 
the  difficult  and  more  subtle  texts,  to  which  they 
succeed  in  giving  so  many  different  meanings.  The 
thirteenth  century  has  characteristic  expressions  to 
describe  this  procedure, — for  example,  ''in  melius 
interjpretari'"  to  interpret  in  a  better  way;  'Weve- 
renter  ecvjjonere/'  to  explain  with  respect;  ''pium 
dare  intellectum/"  to  give  a  dutiful  meaning.  These 
are  euphemisms  of  which  the  greatest  make  use, 
when  it  is  necessary  to  adapt  some  embarrassing 
passage  to  their  own  theories  on  a  given  subject. 
We  recall  here  the  astute  words  of  John  of  Salis- 
bury concerning  the  philosophers  of  his  day, 
eager  to   bring   Plato   and  Aristotle   into   agree- 


142  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

merit, — how  they  worked  in  vain  to  reconcile  dead 
people  who  contradicted  each  other  all  their  lives ! 

Such  being  the  fact,  it  seems  difficult  to  admit 
that  the  philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  century  were 
the  slaves  of  tradition  and  the  scrupulous  servants 
of  authority.  In  judging  of  their  critical  attitude, 
and  of  their  attitude  towards  the  ancients,  one 
should  not  tie  fast  to  the  mere  letter  of  their  state- 
ments; on  the  contrary,  one  should  judge  by  their 
interpretation  of  the  texts  which  they  are  citing,  for 
or  against  their  doctrines.  If  they  sin  against  the 
spirit  of  criticism,  it  is  due  to  excess  of  liberty  and 
not  to  the  lack  of  it.  The  most  eminent  philoso- 
phers took  great  liberties  with  their  authorities, 
"What  else  is  authority  but  a  muzzle?"  wrote  Adel- 
ard  of  Bath  to  his  nephew.^  "Authority  has  a  nose 
of  wax,  which  may  be  turned  in  any  direction,"  said 
Alan  of  Lille. ^  And  Thomas  declared,  as  is  so 
well  known,  that  the  argument  from  authority  is 
the  weakest  of  all, — where  the  human  reason  is  in- 
volved.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  their  attitude  has  a  significant 
practical  implication.  If  philosophical  work  is  di- 
rected to  the  collective  and  progressive  construction 
of  a  fund  of  truth,  as  its  aim,  then  of  course  only 

7  "Quid  enim  aliud  auctoritas  dicenda  quam  capistrum?"     Adelardi 
Batensis  de  quibusdam  naturalibus  quaestionibus,  op.  cit.,  fol.  76  V*. 

8  Contra  Haereticos,  I,  30.     "Auctoritas  cereum  habet  nasum  .  .  . 
i.e.,  in  diversum  potest  flecti  sensum." 

9  Summa  Theol,  1^,  q.  VIII,  ad  secundum.     Locus  ab  auctoritate 
quae  fundatur  super  ratione  hwmana  est  infirmissimus. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  143 

the  work  matters,  and  the  name  of  the  worker 
necessarily  disappears  in  face  of  the  grandeur  of 
truth.  Hence  their  philosophy  attaches  little  im- 
portance to  the  name  of  its  collaborators.  ''Unus 
dicit/'  '"aliquis  dicit/'  they  say  in  speaking  of  con- 
temporaries. It  is,  as  it  were,  the  law  of  humility 
and  silence.  It  was  necessary  for  a  writer  to  be 
known  by  everyone  to  have  his  name  mentioned  at 
all  {allegari) .  One  can  count  on  one's  fingers  those 
who  received  such  an  honour  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. 

On  such  principles  the  textual  interpolations 
made  by  the  copyists  were  not  regarded  as  any  vio- 
lation of  the  original;  rather  they  were  intended 
and  taken  to  improve  the  expression  of  truth  which 
the  author  sought  to  convey. ^°  Similarly,  literary 
theft  was  not  stealing;  it  was  the  utilization  of  a 
common  treasure.  In  the  twelfth  century  a  monk 
by  the  name  of  Alcher  of  Clairvaux  had  written  a 
small  book  on  psychology,  and  in  order  to  ensure 
it  a  wide  circulation  the  copyists  of  the  time  as- 
cribed it  to  Augustine.  William  of  Auvergne, 
Bishop  of  Paris  in  1229,  reproduced  almost  word 
for  word  in  his  De  Immortalitate  Animae  the  simi- 
lar work  of  Dominicus  Gundissalinus,  the  arch- 
deacon of  Toledo.  There  are  numerous  examples 
of  the  same  kind.     If  we  recall,  further,  that  the 

10  For  a  striking  example  of  such  interpolation,  in  the  Summa 
contra  Gentiles  of  Thomas,  see  A.  Pelzer,  Rev.  Neo-Scol,  May,  1920, 
p.  331. 


144  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

negligence  of  copyists  or  the  modesty  of  authors 
set  in  circulation  a  mass  of  manuscripts  without  any 
well-determined  status,  we  can  readily  understand 
some  of  the  insurmountable  difficulties  which  the 
recorder  of  mediaeval  ideas  faces;  for  instance,  in 
identifying  opponents  or  in  attributing  texts  or  in 
detecting  literary  theft. 

With  this  understanding  of  the  matter,  we  are 
little  surprised  to  learn  that  the  predominant  scien- 
tific classification  represented  such  an  amalgama- 
tion that  the  names  of  all  those  who  were  connected 
with  its  origin  or  perfection  or  promulgation  were 
either  neglected  or  forgotten.  As  with  popular 
music,  so  here;  each  composer  appropriates  and 
fashions  in  his  own  way. 

This  same  understanding  also  enables  us  to  see 
just  why  and  in  what  measure  the  scholastic  phi- 
losophy itself  is  the  soul  of  a  collective  body,  made 
up  of  men  belonging  to  different  peoples.  To  be 
sure,  there  were  some  among  them  who  opposed 
their  mighty  personalities  to  this  fund  of  ideas 
which  was  the  common  heritage  of  all, — for  ex- 
ample, Thomas  Aquinas,  Duns  Scotus,  Henry 
of  Ghent,  and  others.  But  apart  from  these,  as 
the  documents  show,  the  great  host  of  men  of  aver- 
age ability  taught  and  developed  the  same  doctrine, 
without  either  opposing  it  or  adding  anything  of 
their  own.  They  were  ennobled  by  it;  their  little- 
ness was  redeemed  by  its  grandeur.     Like  dwarfs 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  145 

on  the  shoulders  of  giants,  they  enjoyed  a  promi- 
nence which  they  did  not  deserve. 

IV 

One  last  corollary — and  not  the  least  important 
— is  born  of  this  impersonal  character  of  learning 
and  its  progressive  constitution.  Philosophy  is  not 
something  essentially  mobile,  some  dazzling  chi- 
mera, which  disappears  or  changes  with  the  succeed- 
ing epochs,  but  it  possesses  a  sort  of  perenniality. 
It  forms  a  monument,  to  which  are  always  added 
new  stones.  The  truth  of  the  time  of  the  Greeks  is 
still  the  truth  of  the  time  of  Thomas  Aquinas  and 
of  Duns  Scotus.  Truth  is  something  enduring.  Of 
course,  there  is  left  a  place  for  progress  and  ex- 
tension in  human  knowledge,  there  are  adaptations 
of  certain  doctrines  to  social  conditions;  this  ap- 
pears, for  example,  in  the  scholastic  doctrine  of  the 
mutability  of  ethical  laws.  But  the  principles  which 
rule  the  logical,  ethical  and  social  activities  remain 
unchanged;  they  are  like  human  nature  of  which 
they  are  expressions,  and  which  does  not  change," 
or  like  the  order  of  essences  which  is  ultimately 
based  on  divine  immutability.  Nothing  is  more 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  scholastic  philosophy  than 
the  modern  temper  of  displacing  preceding  contri- 
butions with  one's  own,  doing  away  with  tradition, 
and  beginning  de  novo  the  upbuilding  of  thought. 
From  this  standpoint  we  may  say  that  the  philoso- 

11  See  below  ch.  XII,  i. 


146  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

phers  of  the  thirteenth  century  are  conscious  of  the 
responsibility  of  building  for  eternity. 

Nor  is  it  different  in  the  other  branches  of  knowl- 
edge,— in  civil  and  canon  law,  and  in  the  social  and 
political  realm.  Thus  Dante,  who  on  so  many 
questions  reveals  the  spirit  of  his  time,  begins  his 
De  Monorchia  with  a  significant  statement  in  this 
connection.  I  give  the  opening  sentences  of  that 
unique  treatise.  "All  men,"  he  says,  "whose  su- 
perior nature  inculcates  the  love  of  truth,  have,  as 
their  chief  care,  it  seems,  to  work  for  posterity. 
Just  as  they  themselves  were  enriched  by  the  work 
of  the  ancients,  so  must  they  leave  to  posterity  a 
profitable  good.  Now,  of  what  use  would  that  man 
be  who  demonstrated  some  theorem  of  Euclid 
anew ;  or  he  who  tried  to  show  again,  after  Aristotle 
had  done  so,  wherein  happiness  lies;  or  again,  he 
who  attempted  after  Cicero  the  defense  of  the 
aged?  .  .  .  This  wearying  superfluity  of  work 
would  be  of  no  avail."  And  then  he  continues: 
"Now  as  the  knowledge  of  the  temporal  monarchy 
is  to  be  considered  as  the  most  useful  of  the  truths 
which  still  remain  hidden,  and  as  it  is  extremely  ob- 
scure, my  object  is  to  bring  it  out  into  the  open 
with  the  twofold  end  of  giving  humanity  a  useful 
witness  of  my  solicitude  and  of  gaining  for  myself 
(keeping  in  view  my  own  glory)  the  reward  which 
such  a  work  deserves."  Like  all  the  rest,  though 
with  a  modest  store  of  ambition  besides,  Dante 
dreams  of  writing  for  eternity. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  147 

This  impersonal  and  eternal  note  is  also  found  in 
the  hymns  of  the  Catholic  liturgy,  that  collection  of 
spiritual  outpourings,  wherein  so  often  the  author 
remains  unknown. 

And  must  not  the  same  be  said  of  the  works  of 
art?  One  does  not  know  the  names  of  the  artists 
who  illuminated  the  manuscripts  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  nor  of  the  glass-makers.  Since  many  of 
these  works  were  made  in  the  cloisters,  doubtless 
the  monks  who  did  the  work  were  moved  by  their 
rule  of  humility  to  hide  their  names. ^^ 

Similarly,  the  epic  poems  contain  numerous 
themes  which  are  like  a  treasure  of  folk-lore  upon 
which  all  may  draw  alike. 

Above  all,  this  impersonal  character  is  found  in 
the  Gothic  system,  which  in  every  respect  resembles 
the  scholastic  philosophy  and  helps  us  to  under- 
stand it.  For,  the  Gothic  system  is  the  property 
of  everyone;  while  each  architect  may  interpret  it 
in  his  own  way,  it  belongs  in  reality  to  no  one. 
Even  now,  we  do  not  know  the  names  of  all  those 
who  conceived  the  plans  and  directed  the  work  on 
the  great  cathedrals;  or,  if  they  were  once  known, 
they  have  since  fallen  into  oblivion.  Who  now 
speaks  of  Petrus  Petri,  the  director  at  the  building 
of  the  cathedral  of  Toledo?  Armies  of  sculptors 
chiselled  the  virgins  and  saints  which  occupy  the 
portals  and  niches,  yet  how  few  of  these  have  sealed 

12  Rule  of  St.  Benedict,  cap.  57.     Artifices  si  sint  in  monasterio, 
cum  omni  humilitate  facient  istas  artes. 


148  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

their  works  with  their  names!  The  builders  of 
cathedrals  also  were  builders  for  eternity;  and  in 
their  minds,  the  materials  of  their  structures  were 
to  survive  for  centuries;  they  were  to  last  not  for 
one  generation  but  for  all  generations  to  come. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

Scholastic  Philosophy  and  the  Religious 
Spirit 

i.  Common  definition  of  scholastic  philosophy  as  a  religious 
philosophy,  ii.  Reflective  analysis  of  the  distinction  between 
philosophy  and  theology.  iii.  The  religious  spirit  of  the 
epoch,  iv.  Connections  of  philosophy  with  religion  not  af- 
fecting the  integrity  of  the  former,  v.  Subordination  of  phi- 
losophy to  Catholic  theology  in  the  light  of  this  analysis,  vi. 
Solution  and  adjustment  of  the  problem,  vii.  Influences  of 
philosophy  in  other  fields.     Conclusion. 


Regarding  western  scholastic  philosophy  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  every  one  repeats  the  laconic  judg- 
ment, that  it  is  "philosophy  in  the  service,  and  un- 
der the  sway  and  direction,  of  Catholic  theology." 
It  could  be  nothing  else,  they  say,  and  it  seems  that 
one  has  said  everything  after  pronouncing  this 
clear-cut  formula.  This  current  definition,  suscep- 
tible of  the  most  varied  meanings,  is  found  in  near- 
ly all  the  books  which  deal  with  scholastic  philos- 
ophy. Whether  their  authors  give  an  extreme  or 
a  moderate  interpretation  of  it,  it  is  offered  to  the 
reader  as  an  abridged  thesis,  containing  in  con- 
densed form  all  that  is  worth  knowing  of  the  sub- 

149 


150  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ject.  "Scholasticism  is  philosophy  placed  in  the 
service  of  doctrine  already  established  by  the 
Church,  or  at  least  philosophy  placed  in  such  a 
subordination  to  this  doctrine  that  it  becomes  the 
absolute  norm  for  what  they  have  in  common."^ 

Now  this  current  definition  of  scholastic  philoso- 
phy in  the  Middle  Ages  defines  it  very  badly,  be- 
cause it  contains  a  mixture  of  truth  and  of  false- 
hood, of  accuracy  and  of  inaccuracy.  It  must  be 
distrusted,  like  those  equivocal  maxims  which  John 
Stuart  Mill  calls  "sophisms  of  simple  inspection," 
which  by  force  of  repetition  enjoy  a  kind  of  tran- 
seat,  or  vogue,  in  science  without  being  questioned. 

To  eliminate  the  ambiguity  we  must  attend  to 
the  historical  setting,  and  view  both  philosophy 
and  theology  in  the  midst  of  the  civilization  whence 
they  evolved.  For  this  we  must  consider  what  re- 
sults they  attained;  and  the  study  of  this  will  dis- 
close a  new  relational  aspect,  wherein  the  scholastic 
philosophy  and  its  classification  of  knowledge 
appear  in  vital  and  organic  harmony  with  the  gen- 
eral mentality  of  the  epoch. 

1  "Die  Scholastik  ist  die  Philosophic  im  Dienste  der  bereits  beste- 
hende  Kirchenlehre  oder  wenigstens  in  einer  solchen  Unterordnung 
unter  dieselbe  dass  diese  auf  gemeinsamen  Gebeite  als  die  absohite 
Norm  gilt,"  p.  196.  Dr.  Mathias  Baumgartner,  in  the  last  (10th) 
edition  of  the  Ueberweg-Heinze  Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philos- 
ophie,  Zweiter  Teil,  "Die  mittlere  oder  die  patristische  und  scholas- 
tische  Zeit,"  Berlin,  1^15. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  151 

II 

That  philosophy  was  a  science  distinct  from  the- 
ology, had  been  universally  recognized  since  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century;"  and  the  masters  of 
the  thirteenth  century  laid  emphasis  upon  this  dis- 
tinction. The  sharp  separation  of  the  personnel  in 
philosophy  (artistae)  and  in  theology  is  one  of  the 
first  indications  that  the  distinction  of  the  two  dis- 
ciplines was  clearly  maintained.  The  University 
of  Paris  simply  took  over  the  methodological  classi- 
fications of  the  twelfth  century,  as  one  finds  them 
in  the  treatises  of  Dominicus  Gundissalinus,  Hugo 
of  St.  Victor,  Robert  Grosseteste,  and  many  others. 
The  tree  of  knowledge  has  the  form  of  a  pyramid, 
with  the  particular  sciences  at  the  base,  philosophy 
midway  up,  and  theology  at  the  top,  as  we  have  al- 
ready explained.^  What  is  new  at  this  stage  of 
the  development  is  the  reflective  and  reasoned  study 
of  the  mutual  independence  of  philosophy  and  the- 
ology. 

This  independence  rests  on  the  difference  in  the 
points  of  view  (ratio  formalis  objecti)  from  which 
philosophy  and  theology  regard  the  materials  with 
which  they  are  occupied  (materia).^  Bearing  in 
mind  this  principle  of  methodology,  we  can  under- 
stand the  declaration  with  which  Thomas  Aquinas 
opens  his  two  Sumniae  on  the  r^aison  d'etre  of  the- 

-  See  above,  ch.  Ill,  p.  50. 

3  See  above,  ch.  IV,  pp.  85  ff. 

4  Cf.,   ch.  IV,  p.  87. 


152  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIYILIZATION 

ology  outside  the  philosophical  sciences  {praeter 
philosophicas  disciplinas)  and  its  distinction  from 
philosophy.  "It  is,"  he  says,  "diversity  in  the  point 
of  view  of  knowledge  {ratio  cognoscibilis)  which 
determines  the  diversity  of  the  sciences.  The  as- 
tronomer and  the  physicist  establish  the  same  con- 
clusion, that  the  earth  is  round ;  but  the  astronomer 
uses  mathematical  arguments  abstracted  from  mat- 
ter, while  the  physicist  uses  arguments  drawn  from 
the  material  condition  of  bodies.  Nothing,  then, 
prevents  the  questions  of  the  philosophical  sciences, 
so  far  as  they  are  known  by  the  light  of  natural 
reason,  from  being  studied  at  the  same  time  by  an- 
other science,  in  the  measure  that  they  are  known 
by  revelation.  Thus  theolog}^  which  is  occupied 
with  sacred  doctrine,  differs  in  kind  from  theodicy, 
which  is  part  of  philosophy."^ 

A  contemporary  of  St.  Thomas,  Henry  of 
Ghent,  also  maintains  this  doctrine,  accepted  by 
all  the  intellectuals  of  the  time:  "Theolog}^  is  a 
distinct  science,"  he  says.  "Though  theology  is  oc- 
cupied with  certain  questions  touched  on  by  phi- 
losophy, theology  and  philosophy  are  none  the  less 
distinct  sciences,  for  they  differ  in  the  aim  pursued 
{sunt  ad  aliud),  the  processes  {per  aliud),  and  the 
methods  {secundum  aliud).  The  philosopher  con- 
sults only  reason;  the  theologian  begins  by  an  act 

5  Summa  Theol.,  1%  q.  I,  art.  1. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  153 

of  faith,  and  his  science  is  directed  by  a  supernat- 
ural light.'" 

It  is  easy  to  show  that  such  principles  were  wide- 
ly applied  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Philosophers 
reasoned  on  the  origin  of  ideas,  on  human  liberty, 
on  causality  and  finality  in  nature,  on  the  relations 
between  will  and  knowledge,  and  on  many  other 
problems  of  a  purely  rational  kind.  One  would 
seek  in  vain  a  religious  veneer  or  a  theological  ar- 
riere  perisee  in  the  solutions  given;  their  constant 
reliance  upon  Aristotle  is  the  simple  fact  that 
makes  this  impossible.  On  the  other  hand,  the- 
ologians discuss  the  Trinity,  the  Redemption,  the 
supernatural  end  of  man,  and  like  problems,  and 
they  invoke  Scriptural  authority.  When  certain 
matters  are  common  to  the  two  orders  of  study, 
such  as  the  existence  and  the  nature  of  God,  there 
is  a  difference  in  the  point  of  view,  from  which  the 
philosopher  and  the  theologian  respectively  discuss 
them.  Their  arguments  meet,  like  the  rays  of  light 
which  set  out  from  distinct  foci  and  are  received  on 
the  same  screen;  but  they  are  no  more  confused 
than — in  our  comparison — the  luminous  sources  are 
confused.  Hence  numerous  philosophic  systems 
could  arise,  remarkable  explanations  of  the  world 

^Summa  Theol,  art.  VII,  q.  1,  Nos.  10-13.  "Adhuc  philos- 
ophus  considerat  quaecumque  considerat,  ut  percepta  et  intellecta 
solo  lumine  naturalis  rationis;  theologus  vero  considerat  singula  ut 
primo  credita  lumine  fidei,  et  secundo  intellecta  lumine  altiori  super 
lumen  naturalis  rationis  infuse. 


154  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

and  of  life,  capable  of  being  judged  and  set  forth 
as  one  sets  forth  and  judges  the  philosophy  of  Aris- 
totle, or  of  Plato,  or  of  Descartes,  or  of  Kant. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  this  distinction 
was  universally  recognized  by  the  scholastics  of  the 
thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries.  That  the  pub- 
lic itself  was  of  like  mind  in  the  matter  is  evidenced 
by  the  painting  by  Traini,  preserved  in  the  Church 
of  St.  Catherine  of  Pisa,  to  which  we  have  already 
referred.^  In  this  picture,  entitled  the  Triumph  of 
St.  Thomas,  the  great  artist  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury has  symbolized  in  drawing  and  in  color  all  the 
intellectual  movements  of  the  time.  What  inter- 
ests us  especially  here  is  the  diversity  of  the  sources 
by  which  Thomas  is  inspired,  as  he  sits  upon  a  gold- 
en throne  in  the  centre  of  the  composition,  the 
Summa  Theologica  open  on  his  knees.  From  the 
top  of  the  picture  Christ  sheds  upon  him  rays  of 
light,  which  are  reflected  by  six  sacred  personages 
— Moses,  the  four  Evangelists,  and  St.  Paul — who 
are  placed  in  a  semicircle;  then,  further,  by  Plato 
and  Aristotle  arranged  on  the  two  sides  after  the 
same  plan.  Luminous  waves  spread  the  doctrines 
over  the  world,  whilst  Averroes,  in  the  attitude  of 
one  conquered,  lies  at  Thomas's  feet.  We  have 
here  a  synthetic  picture,  as  it  were,  which  presents 
a  striking  resume  of  intellectual  speculation  in  the 
thirteenth  century;  and  it  reveals  the  impression 
received  by  men  like  Traini,  who  was  placed  in  a 

7  Cf.  above,  p.  84. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  155 

position  that  enabled  him  to  see  in  broad  outhne. 
It  teaches  us  that  theology  and  philosophy  are  in 
different  planes,  with  a  subordination  like  that  of 
the  personages  who  symbolize  the  one  and  the 
other;  it  shows  us  that  both  are  joined,  as  com- 
plementary, in  the  work  of  Thomas,  that  famous 
thinker  whom  the  contemporaries  of  Traini  called 
''doctor  sanctus/'  Moreover,  the  writers  of  the 
Renaissance  and  the  Reformation, — for  the  most 
part  so  curt  in  their  treatment  of  the  Middle  Ages 
— have  clearly  distinguished  the  scholastic  theolo- 
gians and  the  scholastic  philosophers,  reserving 
rather  for  the  latter  the  name  of  scholastics :  ''Cum 
vero  duplicem  eorum  differentiam  animadvert amus 
theologos  alios,  alios  philosophoSj  quamquam  illis 
hoc  nomen  potius  trihutum  sit  J"  This  judgment, 
which  I  take  from  the  treatise  De  doctoribus  schol- 
asticis  of  Busse,  1676,  is  confirmed  by  Binder, 
Tribbechovius,^  and  by  all  those  who  belong  to  that 
curious  category  of  detractors  of  scholasticism,  on 
whom  Rabelais  and  so  many  others  have  rested  their 
sarcasm.  These  "distributers  of  injuries"  are  better 
advised  than  some  of  our  contemporary  historians, 
for  whom  the  speculation  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  a 
chaos,  a  hodge-podge  of  philosophy  and  theology, 
and  who  make  the  history  of  mediaeval  philosophy 
a  department  of  the  history  of  religion. 

Not  to  understand  the  fundamental  distinction 

8  Tribbechovius,    De    doctoribus    scholasticis    et    corrupta   per    eos 
divinarum   humanarumque  reriim  scientia.     Giessen.     1665. 


156  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

between  the  order  of  nature  and  that  of  grace,  be- 
tween the  rational  conception  of  the  world  and  the 
systematization  of  revealed  dogmas,  would  be  to 
misunderstand  the  speculative  work  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  to  substitute  arbitrary  conceptions  for 
the  indisputable  declarations  of  its  greatest  doctors. 

Ill 

The  freedom  of  philosophy  from  dependence  on 
theology  rests  then  on  solid  methodological 
grounds.  But  while  philosophy  and  theology  are 
objects  of  speculation,  we  must  not  forget  that 
both  are  vital  parts  of  the  civilization  in  which  they 
appear  and  whose  effects  they  feel.  Hence  they 
are  both  touched, — the  one  more  than  the  other  of 
course — by  the  religious  spirit. 

Could  it  be  otherwise  in  an  epoch  in  which 
Catholicism  leaves  its  mark  on  all  civilization?  To 
judge  of  this  impression  it  is  not  enough  to  turn 
to  the  Golden  Legend,  or  the  Apocryphal  Gospels, 
which  furnished  food  for  the  piety  of  the  people. 
It  is  not  enough  to  collect  popular  superstitions, — 
such  as  the  charges  and  stories  of  Caesar  of  Heis- 
terbach.  It  is  not  enough  to  note  the  excesses 
caused  by  the  veneration  of  relics,  the  conflicts  be- 
tween abbots  and  bishops  or  the  bourgeois  of  the 
towns  and  the  feudalists,  whom  material  interests 
divided.  These  many  oddities  pale  before  the  great 
fact  that  the  Catholic  religion  inspires  society 
throughout  and  regulates  its  morals,  its  art,  and  its 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  157 

thought.  The  most  individualistic  statesman — 
PhiHp  Augustus  or  St.  Louis  in  France,  Simon  of 
Montfort  or  Edward  I  in  England,  Frederick  II 
or  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg  in  Germany,  Ferdinand 
of  Castile — all  recognized  the  Catholic  Church  as 
the  necessary  foundation  of  the  social  structure, 
even  when  their  politics  led  them  into  conflict  with 
the  Papacy  in  order  to  shake  off  its  patronage. 
The  same  ardent  faith  which  had  aroused  the  Cru- 
sades also  gave  birth  to  the  new  monastic  orders  of 
Dominicans  and  Franciscans,  who  came  from  the 
most  diverse  social  strata,  and  so  raised  the  level  of 
belief  and  morality  in  the  masses.  Even  the  hereti- 
cal movement  that  appeared  in  Languedoc  and 
Champagne  and  Flanders  shows  the  vitality  of  the 
religious  sentiment.  In  spite  of  the  spirit  of  oppo- 
sition to  the  Church,  the  century  of  Philip  Augus- 
tus remains  an  epoch  of  Catholic  faith.''  By  its 
dogmas  and  its  morality,  Christianity  penetrates 
the  lives  of  individuals  and  families  and  peoples. 
Under  the  influence  of  Christian  ideals  and  canoni- 
cal law,  usury  and  the  taking  of  interest  are  for- 
bidden; just  prices  and  just  wages  rule  trade  and 
commerce.  In  the  corporation,  work  is  a  holy 
thing,  masters  are  equal,  art  is  allied  to  handicraft, 
the  institution  of  the  masterpiece  guarantees  the 
quality  of  the  product.  It  was  because  one  worked 
for  God  that  the  thirteenth  century  could  cover, 

9  Luchaire,  op.  cit.,  p.  318. 


158  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

first  the  soil  of  France  and  then  that  of  Germany, 
with  gigantic  cathedrals,  chiselled  like  jewels. 

Likewise,  the  intimate  union  between  religion  and 
beauty  shines  forth  in  the  work  of  the  period.  The 
''Rationale  divinorum  officiorum'  of  William  (Du- 
rand)  Bishop  of  Mende,  shows  in  detail  how  the 
cathedrals  are  at  once  marvels  of  art  and  symbols 
of  prayer.  The  church  of  Amiens,  which  was  the 
most  perfect  of  the  great  French  monuments,  is  a 
striking  demonstration  of  the  aesthetic  resources  of 
the  original  scheme.  That  of  Chartres  no  less  bril- 
liantly exhibits  its  iconographic  resources.  Each 
stone  had  its  language.  Covered  with  sculpture,  it 
presents  a  complete  religious  programme.  It  is 
for  the  people  the  great  book  of  sacred  history,  the 
catechism  in  images.  Think  of  Amiens  or  Char- 
tres, Paris  or  Laon.  In  every  line  appears  the 
function  of  a  temple  destined  for  the  masses ;  from 
every  angle  the  gaze  is  drawn  towards  the  altar, 
which  sums  up  the  idea  of  sacrifice.  The  frescoes 
and  the  glass  windows  of  Giotto  breathe  forth  the 
perfume  of  religious  life ;  the  poems  of  St.  Francis, 
singing  nature,  raise  the  soul  towards  God;  and 
Dante  wrote  to  Can  Grande  della  Scala,  tyrant  of 
Verona,  that  he  wished  by  means  of  his  poems  to 
snatch  away  the  living  from  their  state  of  wretched- 
ness and  put  them  in  the  way  of  eternal  happiness.^^ 

10  Dicendum  est  breviter  quod  finis  totius  et  partis  est  removere 
viventes  in  hac  vita  de  statu  miseriae  et  perducere  ad  statum 
felicitatis.  See  Dantis  Alighieri  Epistola  X,  in  opere  Latine  di 
Dante,  ed.  G.  Giuliani,  Firenze,  1882,  Vol.  II,  p.  46. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  159 

Art,  in  all  of  its  forms,  shows  the  unfailing  bonds 
between  religion  and  beauty. 

The  religious  spirit  that  penetrated  everything 
was  bound  to  be  felt  also  in  the  domain  of  science, 
and  notably  philosophy.  We  shall  see  this  ques- 
tion— so  complicated  and  so  badly  understood — 
under  new  aspects,  in  seeking  to  understand  the 
precise  relations  of  scholastic  philosophy  and  the 
Catholic  religion.  In  what  does  the  bond  between 
philosophy  and  the  religious  medium  consist?  How 
can  one  reconcile  it  with  that  doctrinal  indepen- 
dence which  philosophers  so  fiercely  claim? 

IV 

It  is  easy  to  make  the  reconciliation  for  a  certain 
group  of  ties,  which  I  shall  call  external,  and  which 
therefore  cannot  really  affect  philosophical  doctrine. 
They  are  not  less  suggestive  of  the  mentality  of 
the  time,  and  they  show  the  perfect  harmony  ex- 
isting between  scholastic  philosophy  and  mediaeval 
civilization.  One  can,  it  seems  to  me,  reduce  these 
extra-doctrinal  relations  to  three  classes,  which  we 
must  examine  briefly. 

The  first  class  results  from  the  social  superiority 
of  the  theologians;  and  this  indicates  that  philos- 
ophy is  for  the  most  part  a  preparation  for  theo- 
logical studies.  That  theology  holds  the  place  of 
honor  in  the  complete  cycle  of  studies,  and  that  it 
is  the  topmost  in  the  pyramid  of  knowledge  ought 
not  to  surprise  us;  for  all  study  whatever  was  sub- 


160  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

servient  to  the  clerical  estate.  The  thirteenth  cen- 
tury in  this  only  continued  the  traditions  of  the 
earlier  Middle  Ages.  The  University  of  Paris,  is- 
suing from  the  schools  at  Notre  Dame,  counted 
only  clerics  among  its  professors,  and  these  profes- 
sors had  the  closest  relations  with  the  Chancellor 
of  Notre  Dame  and  with  the  Papacy.  Many  were 
themselves  canons,  either  of  Paris  or  of  the  prov- 
inces or  from  abroad.  Not  to  mention  the  Fran- 
ciscans or  Dominicans,  who  were  the  most  brilliant 
masters  in  the  University,  the  translation  of  Greek 
and  Arabic  works — so  momentous  for  the  West — 
was  due  to  clerks  of  Toledo  or  monks  of  Greece 
and  Sicily.  In  short,  all  the  co-workers  in  the  great 
awakening  of  the  thirteenth  century  are  ecclesi- 
astics. 

It  is  natural  that  the  masters  in  the  Faculty  of 
Theology  (sacrae  paginue)  took  precedence  of  all 
other  masters,  and  notably  of  philosophers.  In 
this.  University  discipline  was  only  the  reflection 
of  social  life.  The  intensity  of  Catholic  life  makes 
intelligible  why  so  many  of  these  "artists,"  or  phi- 
losophers, desired  to  undertake  the  study  of  theol- 
ogy, after  taking  their  degrees  in  the  lower  faculty. 
So  much  was  this  the  case  that  the  mastership  of 
arts  was  a  direct  preparation  for  the  grades  of  the 
Theological  Faculty.  The  documents  make  this 
clear:  ''Non  est  consenescendum  in  artibus  sed  a 
liminibus  stmt  salutandaef''^'^'"^ — One  does  not  grow 
old  in  philosophy ;  one  must  take  leave  of  it  finally 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  161 

and  engage  himself  with  theology.  It  is  the  inten- 
sity of  this  Catholic  life  which  makes  us  understand 
how  Robert  of  Sorbonne,  founder  of  the  famous 
college  of  that  name,  could  compare  the  Last  Judg- 
ment,— in  his  short  treatise  De  Conscientia^^ — to 
the  examination  for  the  degree  at  Paris,  and  pursue 
the  comparison  into  a  thousand  details.  In  that 
"supreme  trial"  for  the  Doctorate,  for  example, 
the  judge  will  not  be  accessible  to  recommendations 
or  presents,  and  all  will  pass  or  fail  strictly  in  at- 
cordance  with  the  requirements  of  justice.  It  is, 
moreover,  the  intensity  of  religious  life  at  that 
epoch  which  alone  can  explain  certain  controversies 
among  theologians  which  contravene  our  modern 
ideas, — such  as  that  on  the  subject  of  Christian 
perfection.  While  ordinary  people  are  enthusiastic 
for  a  religion  that  is  simple  and  sturdy,  the  learned 
at  Paris  sought  to  determine  whether  the  life  of  the 
regulars  is  nearer  to  perfection  than  that  of  the 
seculars.  Between  1255  and  1275  all  doctors  in 
theology  were  obliged  to  declare  themselves  on  this 
question.  Certain  secular  masters  treated  it  with 
an  asperity  and  a  passion  which  served  as  an  outlet 
for  their  ill-humor  against  the  Dominicans  and 
Franciscans,  whom  they  never  forgave  for  having 
taken  the  three  chairs  in  the  Faculty  of  Theology.^" 

lobis^nry    Dgnifle,  Die   Universitdten  des  Mittelalters  his  I4OO,  Bd. 
I,  pp.  99-100. 

11  Edited  by  F.  Chambon,  Robert  de  Sorbon,  Paris,  1903. 

12  Cf.  above,  p.  76. 


162  PHILOSOPHY   AND   CIVILIZATION 

If,  for  all  these  reasons  both  social  and  religious, 
more  credit  or  honor  or  importance  was  attached  to 
theology  and  to  religious  discussion  than  to  phi- 
losophy, this  fact  could  in  no  wise  change  the  posi- 
tion of  philosophy,  which  remained  what  it  is  and 
must  be — a  synthetic  study  of  the  world  by  means 
of  the  reason  alone. 

The  second  class  of  ties  results  from  the  penetra- 
tion of  philosophy  into  speculative  theology,  and 
from  its  being  constituted  an  apology  for  Chris- 
tianity,— the  penetration  affecting  theology  alone, 
and  philosophy  not  at  all.  This  method  which  was 
so  dear  to  the  masters  of  Paris,  has  been  commonly 
called  by  modern  authors  the  dialectic  method  in 
theology.  We  already  know  that  speculative  the- 
ology, which  achieved  its  greatest  renown  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  aimed  at  the  co-ordination  of 
Catholic  dogma;  therefore  its  chief  method  was 
necessarily  based  upon  the  authority  of  the  sacred 
books.  But  by  the  side  of  this  principal  method, 
the  theologians  employed  another  one,  as  accessory 
and  secondary.  In  order  to  make  dogmas  intelligi- 
ble, they  sought  to  show  their  well-founded  reason- 
ableness,— just  as  Jewish  theologians  had  done  in 
the  days  of  Philo,  or  Arabian  theologians  had  done 
with  the  Koran.  In  the  twelfth  century,  Abaelard, 
and  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  and  Gilbert  de  la  Porree, 
had  founded  this  apologetic  method;  and  in  the 
thirteenth  century  it  had  attained  the  widest  ex- 
tension.    The  same  Thomas  Aquinas  who  taught 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  163 

the  clear  distinction  between  philosophy  and  the- 
ology, wrote  on  the  subject:  "If  theology  borrows 
from  philosophy,  it  is  not  because  it  needs  its  help, 
but  in  order  to  make  more  obvious  the  truths  which 
it  teaches."'^ 

The  application  of  philosophy  to  theology  I  call 
apologetics.  Just  as  the  application  of  mathe- 
matics to  astronomy  affects  astronomy  alone,  so 
also  the  application  of  philosophy  to  theology  af- 
fects onl}^  theology.  On  this  historical  point,  which 
I  have  long  sought  to  establish,  the  writers  of  the 
thirteenth  century  give  ample  support ;  for  they  dis- 
tinguish the  two  theological  methods  of  authority 
and  of  reason,  ''auctoritates  et  rationes"^^ 

It  clearly  follows  that  the  use  of  philosophy  for 
theological  ends  arises  by  the  side  of  pure  philos- 
ophy, while  the  latter  remains  vmchanged.  If  you 
will  recall  the  religious  mentality  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  you  will  readily  understand  how  the  ap- 
plication of  philosophy  to  dogma  led  many  minds 
into  theology.  The  result  was  that  most  philoso- 
phers became  theologians;  and  mediaeval  apolo- 
getics arose  in  the  most  varied  forms.  In  a  society 
where  heresy  itself  sprang  from  an  excess  of  re- 

13  "Ad  secundum  dicendum  quod  haec  scientia  accipere  potest 
aliquid  a  philosophicis  disciplinis,  non  quod  ex  necessitate  eis  indi- 
geat,  sed  ad  majorem  manifestationem  eorum  quae  in  hac  scientia 
tiaduntur."     Summa  Theol.,  la,  q.  I,  art.  5. 

14  This  distinction  between  "auctoritates  et  rationes,"  appears  as 
early  as  Peter  of  Poitiers.  Cf.  Grabmann,  Gesch.  d.  schol.  Methode, 
I,  33. 


164  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

ligious  zeal  and  under  color  of  purifying  belief,  no 
one  dreamed  of  opposing  dogma;  on  the  contrary, 
it  was  explained — and  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  The 
wisest,  following  the  traditions  of  Anselm  and  of 
the  Victorines,  posited  a  domain  of  mystery  re- 
served to  the  advantage  of  theology.  Thomas 
Aquinas  does  not  admit  the  philosophical  demon- 
stration of  mystery  itself;  he  allows  philosophy  to 
prove  only  that  mystery  contains  nothing  irra- 
tional. Duns  Scotus  goes  further;  from  fear  of 
actual  conflict,  he  withdraws  every  theological 
question  from  the  empire  of  reason.  But  others 
did  not  follow  these  wise  examples.  Raymond 
Lully  wished  to  support  all  the  contents  of  revela- 
tion by  the  syllogism — as  formerly  Abaelard  had 
done;  and  Roger  Bacon  even  confused  philosophy 
with  apologetics.  Mediaeval  rationalism,  in  its 
scholastic  form,  vindicates  for  reason  the  power  of 
demonstrating  dogma  in  every  way;  and  in  this  it 
is  in  striking  contrast  with  the  modern  rationalism 
which  would  deny  dogma  in  the  name  of  reason. 

Where  could  the  profoundly  religious  spirit  of 
mediaeval  speculation  appear  more  luminously  than 
in  these  rash  attempts?  It  was  religious  to  the 
point  of  folly.  There  is  no  better  word  to  charac- 
terize the  attitude  of  the  latin  Averroists,  who 
stirred  so  deeply  the  University  of  Paris  in  the  thir- 
teenth and  fourteenth  centuries.  Not  wishing  to 
deny  either  the  Catholic  faith  or  the  compact  mass 
of  philosophical  doctrines  which  were  in  flagrant 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  165 

contradiction  with  this  faith,  they  hit  upon  an  inge- 
nious device;  this  was  the  astonishing  doctrine  of 
the  twofold  truth:  "What  is  true  in  philosophy," 
they  said,  "may  be  false  in  theology,  and  vice 
versa."^^ 

Whatever  these  different  attitudes  may  have 
been, — and  the  religious  concern  which  inspired 
them— they  had  a  very  important  effect  on  the  rela- 
tion of  philosophy  and  theology.  For,  the  theolo- 
gian was  wont  to  enter  into  a  great  number  of  phi- 
losophical questions  for  the  purpose  of  his  apolo- 
getics. Since  no  science  bears  more  than  does  phi- 
losophy the  impress  of  him  who  treats  it,  each  the- 
ologian thus  retained  and  developed  his  own  philo- 
sophic attitude.  Moreover  he  might  feel  again  the 
attraction  of  certain  philosophic  problems,  or  he 
might  refresh  the  memory  of  his  hearers — ''prop- 
ter imperitos''  says  Henry  of  Ghent ;  in  both  cases 
he  made  deep  and  prolonged  incursions  into  the 
ground  reserved  for  philosophy.  The  result  was 
that  philosophy  became  employed  in  both  the  Fac- 
ulty of  Arts  and  the  Faculty  of  Theology, — defi- 
nitely disinterested  in  the  former  and  frankly  apol- 
ogetic in  the  latter. 

This  is  the  simple  explanation  of  that  pedagogi- 
cal phenomenon,  peculiar  to  the  Middle  Ages, 
which  has  perplexed  historians  so  much — the  mix- 
ture of  matters  philosophical  and  theological  in  the 
Summae,  the  Quodliheta,  the  Quaestiones  Dispu- 
te Cf.  ch.  XIII,  iv. 


166  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

tatae,  and  in  almost  all  mediaeval  works.  To  con- 
sider only  the  title  of  Summa  Theologica  given  to 
their  chief  works  by  Alexander  of  Hales,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Henry  of  Ghent  and  others,  one  would 
think  they  are  great  works  in  which  philosophy  has 
no  place.  But  let  there  be  no  deception.  Genuine 
philosophical  treatises  are  contained  in  these  vast 
productions.  It  will  suffice  to  refer  to  a  part  of 
the  great  Summa  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  wherein  are 
to  be  found  integral  treatises  on  psychology  and 
ethics  and  law.^® 

The  religious  mentality  of  the  time  created  also 
a  third  class  of  ties,  existing  not  between  philos- 
ophy and  theology  but  between  the  subjective  in- 
tentions of  philosophers  and  the  objective  end  to 
which  they  subordinated  all  their  studies, — which 
was  no  other  than  that  of  obtaining  happiness.  The 
eye  of  all  was  fixed  on  the  future  life.  On  the  mar- 
gin of  the  Summa  Contra  Gentiles,  in  the  rough 
draft  by  Thomas  himself,  we  find  various  pious  in- 
vocations {ave,  ave  Maria)  .^^  As  Dante  wrote  the 
Divine  Comedy  "to  snatch  the  living  from  the  state 
of  wretchedness  and  to  lead  them  to  the  state  of 
happiness,"  so  also  the  intellectuals  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  refer  their  researches,  whatever  they 
are — astronomy,  mathematics,  the  science  of  obser- 

i«See  Summa  Theol,  1%  qq.  LXXV-XC;  la^ae,  qq.  I-XXV;  ibid., 
qq.  XC-XCVII. 

17  Summa  contra  Gentiles,  ad  codices  manuscriptos  praesertira 
sancti  Doctoris  exacta,  Romae,  1918,  Praefatio,  p.  VIII. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  167 

vation,  and  philosophy  also — to  their  personal  striv- 
ing for  Christian  happiness.  There  was  here  no 
difference  between  them  and  the  painters  or  sculp- 
tors or  architects,  who  also  worked  for  the  glory  of 
God  and  their  own  salvation,  or  even  princes  and 
kings,  who  were  all  moved  by  the  desire  to  avoid 
hell  and  to  merit  heaven,  and  who  did  not  conceal 
this  in  their  official  acts.  But  the  intention  was  a 
matter  of  moral  consciousness;  it  changed  in  no  re- 
spect either  the  politics  of  kings  or  the  beauty  of 
works  of  art  or  the  value  of  philosophical  systems. 
Scholastics  would  have  apphed  to  their  case  the 
famous  distinction  of  '"finis  operis''  (the  work  it- 
self) and  ''finis  operantis"  (the  intention  with 
which  it  was  done). 

To  sum  up:  Neither  the  social  superiority  of 
theologians  nor  the  constitution  of  theological  apol- 
ogetics nor  the  religious  tendency  of  thinkers  was 
an  obstacle  to  the  independence  of  philosophy. 
However,  these  three  facts  make  perfectly  plain 
just  how  philosophy  also  in  the  thirteenth  century 
was  bathed  in  a  general  atmosphere  of  religion 
which  pervaded  everything  else. 


But,  since  we  have  raised  in  general  terms  the 
question  of  the  relations  between  philosophy  and 
religion  in  the  thirteenth  century,  there  is  a  last 
class  of  ties  of  which  it  remains  to  speak,  and  which 
touch    very    closely    philosophic   doctrine    itself — 


168  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVH^IZATION 

the  prohibitive  or  negative  subordination  of  phi- 
losophy to  theology.  Profoundly  convinced  that 
Catholic  dogma  is  the  expression  of  the  infallible 
word  of  God ;  convinced,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
truth  cannot  overthrow  the  truth,  without  over- 
throwing the  principle  of  contradiction  and  involv- 
ing all  certainty  in  this  ruin,  the  scholastics  drew 
this  conclusion:  that  philosophical  doctrine  cannot 
in  reality  contradict  theological  doctrine, — there- 
fore it  is  prohibited  from  doing  so. 

To  understand  the  precise  meaning  of  this  pro- 
hibition we  must  note  three  points :  First,  that  it  is 
based  on  the  principle  of  the  solidarity  of  truth; 
second,  that  it  involves  the  denial  of  contradiction, 
and  not  the  assertion  of  positive  proof;  and,  third, 
that  it  affects  philosophy  in  part  only,  namely,  so 
far  as  its  domain  belongs  at  the  same  time  (but 
from  another  point  of  view)  to  theology.  Let  us 
consider  each  of  these  in  turn. 

Truth  cannot  contradict  truth.  Music,  writes 
Thomas  Aquinas,  depends  on  the  application  of 
mathematical  principles,  which  it  cannot,  therefore, 
contravene ;  but  it  is  not  concerned  with  their  foun- 
dation,— that  is  not  its  affair.  Assuming  the  fact 
of  a  revelation — and  in  the  heart  of  the  Middle 
Ages  no  one  doubted  it — the  attitude  of  the  schol- 
astics is  logical.  Henry  of  Ghent  puts  the  matter 
concisely,  when  he  says;    "If  we  admit  (supposito) 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  169 

that  theological  doctrines  are  true,  we  cannot  ad- 
mit that  other  doctrines  can  contradict  them."^^ 

That  the  prohibition  is  solely  negative  in  char- 
acter, appears  from  a  statute  of  the  Faculty  of 
Arts  of  1272.  This  statute  simply  enjoins  the 
"artists"  (artistae)  from  '' deter  minare  contra 
jidem" ;  but  it  does  not  instruct  them  " determinare 
pro  fide/'^^  No  one  followed  this  simple  precept 
with  greater  breadth  of  mind  than  did  Thomas 
Aquinas;  and  his  famous  position  regarding  the 
eternity  of  the  world  is  ample  evidence  of  this  fact. 
Thus,  the  Bible  teaches  that  God  created  the  world 
in  time.  To  avoid  contradicting  this  dogma, 
Thomas  eliminates  the  thesis  that  the  world  is 
eternal.  But  he  does  maintain  that  the  idea  of 
eternal  creation  is  not  contradictory, — because  the 
eternity  of  the  world  would  not  be  in  opposition  to 
its  contingency.^^ 

Finally,  as  regards  its  limited  effect  on  philos- 

i8"Supposito  quod  huic  scientiae  non  subjacet  nisi  verum  .  .  . 
supposito  quod  quaecumque  vera  sunt  judicio  et  auctoritate  hujus 
scientiae  ...  his  inquam  suppositis,  cum  ex  eis  manifestum  sit  quod 
tarn  auctoritas  hujus  scientiae  quam  ratio  .  .  .  veritati  innititur  et 
verum  vero  contrarium  esse  non  potest,  absolute  dicendum  quod 
auctoritati  hujus  scripturae  ratio  nullo  modo  potest  esse  contraria." 
8v>mma.  Theol,  X,  3,  No.  4. 

19  Chartularivm  Univers.  Parisiensis,  ed.  Denifle  et  Chatelain,  I,  499. 

20  Mundum  non  semper  fuisse  sola  fide  tenetur  et  demonstrative 
probari  non  potest.  .  .  .  Demonstrari  non  potest  quod  homo  aut 
caelum  aut  lapis  non  semper  fuit  .  .  .  unde  non  est  impossible  quod 
homo  generetur  ab  homine  in  infinitum.  Summa  Theol.,  1*,  q. 
XLVI,  art.  2. 


170  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

ophy,  this  prohibition  applies  only  to  matters  ex- 
pounded by  both  philosophy  and  theology.  The  in- 
terdiction has  no  force  unless  both  domains  are  in- 
volved; therefore  philosophy  was  affected  only  to 
a  very  limited  extent. 

With  this  understanding  of  the  scholastic  con- 
ception before  us,  we  might  seek  to  estimate  the 
truth  of  their  view  concerning  the  relation  of  phi- 
losophy to  theology.  The  result  would  of  course 
vary,  according  to  the  acceptance  or  rejection  of 
Christianity  and  the  particular  meaning  given  to 
the  idea  of  revelation.  But  we  are  here  concerned 
with  an  historical  problem.  Certainly,  from  that 
point  of  view,  there  can  be  no  doubt  concerning  the 
position  in  fact  taken  by  the  scholastics  of  the  thir- 
teenth century. 

VI 

We  are  now  in  position  to  evaluate  the  commonly 
accepted  view  of  scholastic  philosophy,  which  was 
given  at  the  outset  of  this  lecture.  The  definition 
which  was  then  quoted, — accepted  by  most  his- 
torians of  mediaeval  philosophy — conceives  of 
scholastic  philosophy  as  essentially  religious. 

Of  course,  one  can  say  of  scholastic  philosophy 
that  it  is  largely  inspired  by  religion.  However, 
this  is  true  in  so  general  a  sense  that  the  fact  turns 
out  to  be  irrelevant  for  purposes  of  definition. 
Their  philosophy  evolved  in  a  social  atmosphere  in 
which  religion  was  dominant.     Under  the  spell  of 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  171 

this  mentality  theological  studies  enjoyed  a  pres- 
tige superior  to  that  which  was  granted  to  philo- 
sophical studies.  The  proximity  of  the  faculties  of 
theology  and  philosophy  introduced  a  kind  of  pas- 
sion for  combining  (but  not  confusing)  philosophi- 
cal* and  theological  questions  in  the  same  work. 
Finally,  as  regards  the  realm  of  morals,  philosophy 
was  regarded  by  the  intellectuals  of  the  Middle 
Ages  as  a  preliminary  step  in  aspiring  to  happi- 
ness. But  this  religious  inspiration  affects  all  the 
other  activities  that  make  up  the  civilization  of  the 
thirteenth  century — politics,  art,  morals,  family, 
work.  The  religious  inspiration  is  a  relational 
characteristic  along  with  many  others ;  but  precisely 
because  this  characteristic  belongs  to  the  civiliza- 
tion, it  belongs  to  all  its  factors  and  is  not  peculiar 
to  philosophy,  which  is  only  one  factor.  Hence  it 
is  as  inadequate  to  the  definition  of  their  philosophy 
as  would  be,  for  example,  the  description  of  the  oak 
by  reference  merely  to  the  nature  of  the  soil,  which 
its  roots  share  with  those  of  the  elm  and  the  beech 
and  the  other  trees  of  the  forest.  One  can  under- 
stand why  historians  who  study  expressly  the  civi- 
lization of  the  Middle  Ages,^^  should  single  out  for 
criticism  the  dominant  preoccupation  with  salva- 
tion, in  the  thirteenth  century  scholasticism,  and 
should  regard  this  as  sufficiently  characteristic. 
But  it   seems   incredible   that   works  which   treat 

21  As  does,   for  example,   H.   O.   Taylor   in   his   remarkable   work, 
The  Mediaeval  Mind,  vol.  II,  ch.  XXXV. 


172  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

solely  of  the  historical  exposition  of  philosophical 
doctrines  should  be  content  with  such  a  superficial 
judgment;  and  the  procedure  seems  to  me  inadmis- 
sible. 

In  addition  to  the  general  criticism  which  we 
have  just  made  of  this  definition,  on  the  ground  of 
insufficiency,  some  special  criticisms  may  be  con- 
sidered on  the  basis  of  our  preceding  study. 

Scholasticism,  others  say,  is  philosophy  placed  in 
the  service  of  doctrine  already  established  by  the 
Church.  Not  at  all.  To  place  philosophy  in  the 
service  of  theology  is  to  use  apologetic ;  and  apolo- 
getic, which  proposes  to  show  the  rational  character 
of  dogmas  fixed  beforehand,  comes  from  scholastic 
theology  and  not  from  scholastic  philosophy.  To 
define,  according  to  the  expHcit  procedure  of  Aris- 
totle, is  to  say  what  a  thing  is,  and  not  only  what 
it  is  not. 

Is  scholasticism,  then,  placed  in  such  dependence 
on  theology  as  to  follow  it  without  any  contradic- 
tion whatever?  The  reply  to  this  question  is  in  the 
affirmative,  provided  the  groiind  is  a  common  one. 
But  the  question  is  whether  this  dependence  is 
enough  to  constitute  a  complete  definition,  and  one 
must  reply  in  the  negative.  In  the  first  place,  be- 
cause this  dependence  simply  places  boundaries  or 
limits  beyond  which  one  cannot  pass.  It  does  not 
treat  of  what  is  beyond,  or  of  numerous  philosophi- 
cal doctrines  in  which  theology  is  not  interested, 
but  in  which  our  definition  should  be  interested. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  173 

Scholastic  philosophy  includes  vast  domains  which 
are  not  in  conflict  with  the  realm  of  theology/" 
Now  definition  involves  not  merely  the  outlining  of 
limits,  but  also  the  penetrating  of  the  field  itself. 
We  object  further,  because  this  dependence  does 
not  establish  any  doctrinal  content,  but  simply  for- 
bids contradiction.  It  can  therefore  only  establish 
a  negative — that  is  to  say,  an  imperfect — definition 
of  philosophical  doctrine,  which  is  the  thing  itself 
to  be  defined. 

VII 

We  conclude  then  that  need  of  universal  order, 
cosmopolitan  value,  optimism,  impersonality,  and 
religious  spirit  are  so  many  harmonious  relations 
which  exist  between  scholastic  philosophy  and  all 
the  other  spheres  of  the  civilization  in  which  it  ap- 
pears. 

But  in  addition  to  these  harmonious  relations, 
which  reveals  this  civilization  rather  in  its  static 
aspect,  there  are  also  relations  which  are  distinctly 
dynamic.     For,  scholasticism  had  a  very  profound 

22  Even  Mr.  Taylor  {oy.  cit.)  recognizes  that  scholastic  philoso- 
phers are  devoted  to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  for  itself.  Beside  the 
joy  of  working  for  their  salvation,  they  have  the  joy  of  study.  Men 
like  Roger  Bacon,  Albertus  Magnus,  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  could 
not  have  done  what  they  did,  says  he,  without  the  love  of  knowledge 
in  their  souls.  Similarly,  it  has  been  shown  by  Male,  that  in  addi- 
tion to  the  symbolic  sculpture,  which  is  based  on  religious  doctrine, 
there  are  many  sculptural  designs  and  motives  in  the  Gothic  cathe- 
drals which  are  introduced  solely  for  the  sake  of  artistic  beauty. 
See  E.  Male:  L'art  religieux  du  IS'e  s.  en  France,  pp.  70  ff. 


174  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

influence  within  the  various  departments  of  psy- 
chical hfe;  and  from  this  angle  of  its  efficacy  it 
acquires  a  new  value  for  our  consideration. 

What  has  been  said  concerning  mediaeval  apolo- 
getics constitutes  an  example  of  the  penetration  of 
philosophic  doctrine  within  the  domain  of  theology. 
In  the  same  way  one  can  show  that  this  doctrine  re- 
acted in  the  spheres  of  canon  law  and  of  civil  law 
and  of  political  economy  and  of  mysticism.  More- 
over, like  a  musical  sound  in  its  harmonic  scale,  the 
same  doctrine  reverberates  throughout  the  forms  of 
artistic  and  common  life.  And  it  could  be  pointed 
out  readily  how  the  literature  of  the  period  is  per- 
meated with  it, — how  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  read 
in  the  feudal  castles ;  how  great  didactic  poems  such 
as  the  Bataille  des  Septs  Arts  of  Henri  d'Andeli, 
the  Renart  Contrefait,  the  Manage  des  Septs  Arts 
et  des  Septs  Vertus;  how  Chaucer's  Parlement  of 
Foules  or  his  Canterbury  Tales  are  filled  with 
philosophical  theories  borrowed  from  Alan  of  Lille, 
Avicenna,  Thomas  Aquinas,  Thomas  Bradwardine 
and  others."^  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Canzone 
of  Guido  Cavalcante^*  and  of  the  poems  of  Dante. 

Thus,  for  example,  Dante's  De  Monarchia  draws 
its  inspiration  from  the  theory  of  the  four  causes; 
it  invokes  the  scholastic  theory  of  the  proprium,  in 

23  For  instance,  Chaucer's  "Nun's  Priest  Tale"  reproduces  the 
theological  determinism  of  Thomas  Bradwardine. 

24  For  instance,  Canzone,  p.  123,  ed.  Ercole  Rivalta:  La  Rime  di 
Ouido  Cavalcante,  Florence,  1902. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  175 

order  to  justify  its  claim  that  man's  good  consists 
in  the  development  of  his  intelligence;''  it  takes  as 
its  authority  Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  ''magister  sea? 
principioruvfi'  \  it  constructs  "polysyllogisms  in  the 
second  figure";"^  it  sets  forth  at  length  the  theory 
of  liberty  for  which  it  employs  a  definition  which 
expresses  the  feudal  mentality  {suimet  et  non  al- 
terius  est)  ;  it  observes  that  it  is  easier  to  teach  phi- 
losophy to  one  who  is  utterly  innocent  of  knowledge 
about  it  than  to  those  who  are  replete  with  erron- 
eous opinions;  it  rests  at  one  point,  on  the  precept 
which  expresses  so  admirably  the  unifying  tendency 
of  the  time :  ''quod  potest  fieri  per  unum  melius  est 
fieri  per  unum  quam,  per  plura'  f  it  likens  the  rela- 
tion of  petty  prince  and  monarch  to  that  of  the 
practical  and  the  speculative  intellect,  inasmuch  as 
directions  for  conduct  pass  to  the  former  from  the 
latter.  As  for  the  Divine  Comedy,  it  is  full  of  phi- 
losophy, notwithstanding  the  poetical  transforma- 
tion which  suffuses  the  thought  with  its  magical 
charm.  While  Dante  is  no  systematic  philosopher, 
nevertheless  he  is  eclectic  and  the  influence  of 
philosophical  systems  is  everywhere  evident  in  his 
thought ;  in  hands  so  expert  the  work  of  art  receives 
every  doctrinal  impression  like  soft  and  pliable  wax. 
One  could  show  how  the  statues  of  the  cathedral 
churches  of  Chartres  or  of  Laon  or  of  Paris,  for  ex- 

25  Pars  Prima. 

26  "Iste  polysyllogismiis  currit  per  secundam  figuram." 

27  See  above,  p.  110. 


176  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

ample,  and  the  frescoes  and  miniatures  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  generally,  reflect  in  design  and  in 
color  the  philosophical  thought  of  the  period;  how 
the  great  painters  from  the  fourteenth  century  to 
the  seventeenth  century  owe  much  of  their  artistic 
inspiration  to  scholastic  themes;  how  the  termin- 
ology of  that  same  philosophy  makes  no  small  con- 
tribution to  the  ever  increasing  modern  vocabulary, 
especially  in  philosophy  f^  how  scholastic  definitions 
have  entered  into  English  literature  and  French 
literature ;  how  some  of  the  thirteenth  century  hagi- 
ographers  make  use  of  the  methods  of  division  and 
the  technical  terms  of  scholasticism;  and  how  en- 
tire doctrines  drawn  from  scholasticism  are  con- 

28  The  scholastic  terms  become  "current  coin,"  as  Saintsbury  ob- 
serves; and  he  adds:  "Even  the  logical  fribble,  even  the  logical 
jargonist  was  bound  to  be  exact.  Now  exactness  was  the  very  thing 
which  languages,  mostly  young  in  actual  age  .  .  .  wanted  most  of 
all."  Periods  of  European  Literature,  vol.  II  (The  Flourishing  of 
Romance  and  the  Rise  of  Allegory),  p.  16,  cf.  pp.  20,  21.  Cf.  Brune- 
ti^re:  "Les  definitions  de  la  scholastique  n'ont  rien  de  scientifique 
au  sens  veritable  du  mot;  mais  eUes  n'en  ont  pas  moins  discipline 
I'esprit  fran^ais  en  lui  imposant  ce  besoin  de  clarte,  de  precision  et 
de  justesse  qui  ne  laissera  pas  de  contribuer  pour  sa  part  a  la 
fortune  de  notre  prose  ...  A  coup  sur,  nous  ne  pourrons  pas  ne  pas 
lui  etre  reconnaissants  de  nous  avoir  appris  a  composer;  et  1^, 
comme  on  salt,  dans  cet  equilibre  de  la  composition,  dans  cette 
subordination  du  detail  a  I'idee  de  I'ensemble,  dans  celte  juste  pro- 
portion de  parties,  la  sera  I'un  des  traits  eminents  et  caract^ris- 
tiques  de  la  litt6rature  fran9aise."  Manuel  de  Vhistoire  de  la  lit- 
erature franqaise,  Paris,  1898,  pp.  24-25. 

Shakespeare  is  acquainted  with  scholastic  doctrines.  For  example, 
the  "quiddities"  of  Hamlet  (Act  V,  sc.  i,  "Where  be  his  quiddities 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  177 

densed  in  the  terse  sayings  of  popular  speech.  In- 
deed, these  influences  are  so  far  reaching  and  so  di- 
verse that  no  student  of  history  or  of  political  and 
social  science  or  of  art  or  of  literature  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  can  safely  ignore  the  philosophy  of  that 
period. 

But  however  important  and  interesting  these  in- 
fluences (the  dynamic  relations)  may  be,  they  are 
not  more  significant  for  our  proper  understanding 
of  the  scholastic  philosophy  than  is  the  harmonious 
equilibrium  (the  static  relations)  considered  in  the 
preceding  chapters.  And  hence,  to  comprehend 
fully  and  to  estimate  that  philosophy  aright  we 
must  proceed  to  consider  what  belongs  to  it  in  its 
own  constitution.  To  that  end  we  shall  enter  into 
its  doctrinal  content. 

It  will  be  impossible  of  course  to  consider  all  of 
the  manifold  and  extensive  doctrinal  realms  which 
scholastic  philosophy  covers.  We  shall  therefore 
limit  ovu'selves  to  those  doctrinal  realms  which  are 

now?")  is  a  scholastic  term;  it  means  'realities'  and  not  'subtilities' 
(common  glossary).  Again  Hamlet  (Act  I,  sc.  v)  speaks  of  "table 
of  my  memory"  and 

"All  forms,  all  pressures  past 
That  youth  and  observation  copied  there." 
This  is  an  allusion  to  the  "formae  et  species  impressae."    And  again, 
he  is  using  scholastic  thought  when  he  says: 

"Sense  sure  you  have, 

Else  could  you  not  have  motion."     (Act  III,  sc.  iv) 
recalling  the  doctrine  that  movement  presupposes   sense-perception. 
That  "godlike"  reason  differentiates  man  from  beast  (Act.  IV,  sc.  iv) 
is  also  scholastic  doctrine. 


178  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

most  intimately  connected  with  the  civilization. 
Namely,  intellectualism  because  it  permeates  the 
entire  life  of  the  century,  although  it  belongs  prop- 
erly to  psychology  (Chapter  VIII)  ;  metaphysics, 
because  it  is  the  foundation  of  the  whole  scholastic 
philosophy  (Chapter  IX)  ;  social  philosophy  be- 
cause it  is  intimately  bound  up  with  the  political 
and  rehgious  life  (Chapters  X  and  XI)  ;  and, 
finally,  the  conception  of  human  progress,  because 
for  them  as  for  all  energetic  humanity  it  is  the 
mainspring  of   life  (Chapter  XII). 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


Intellectualism 


i.  Intellectualism  in  ideology,  ii.  In  epistemology.  iii. 
In  psychology  (free  volition),  iv.  More  generally  (psychol- 
ogy, logic,  metaphysics,  ethics,  aesthetics),  v.  In  other  forms 
of  culture. 


Intellectualism  is  a  doctrine  which  places  all  the 
nobility,  all  the  intensity,  the  whole  value  of  psychi- 
cal life  in  the  act  of  knowing.  No  philosophy  is 
more  "intellectualistic"  than  mediaeval  scholasti- 
cism. It  is  a  doctrine  of  light.  Long  before  Des- 
cartes,— but  from  another  point  of  view — Thomas 
Aquinas  and  Duns  Scotus  emphasized  the  impor- 
tance of  clear  intellectual  insight.  The  scholastic 
conception  of  clear  knowledge  is  not  only  promi- 
nent in  their  psychology;  it  also  penetrates  all  the 
other  departments  of  their  philosophy,  so  that  intel- 
lectualism is  at  the  same  time  a  doctrine  and  a 
method. 

Considered  in  its  ideological  aspect,  scholastic  in- 
tellectualism is  a  brilliant  form  of  idealism,^  and 

1  With  the  term,  idealism,  I  refer  to  the  ideological  conception 
which  establishes  a  difference  in  kind  between  sense  perception  and 
intellectual  knowledge. 

179 


180  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

places  the  philosophers  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the 
family  of  Plato,  Plotinus,  Descartes,  Leibnitz,  and 
Kant.  This  will  appear  from  a  simple  example.  I 
look  at  two  black  horses  drawing  a  carriage.  All 
that  my  senses  perceive  in  these  external  data  re- 
ceives a  particular  dress,  which  is  temporal  and  spa- 
tial.^ But  I  possess  another  power  of  representing 
to  myself  the  real.  The  intellect  draws  out  of  this 
sensible  content  the  ideas  of  motion,  of  muscular 
force,  of  horse,  of  life,  of  being.  It  does  away  with 
the  concrete  conditions  which,  in  the  sensible  per- 
ception, bind  the  real  to  a  particular  state;  it  "ab- 
stracts" the  ''quod  quid  est''  the  what  of  a  thing. 

One  might  multiply  examples  at  will;  but  they 
would  only  bring  out  the  more  clearly  that  we  have 
abstract  ideas  without  number, — ideas,  for  ex- 
ample, of  qualities  and  forms  and  quantities  and 
action  and  passions  and  so  on.  Indeed  one  pos- 
sesses a  very  treasure  of  these  abstract  ideas;  they 
are  as  manifold  as  the  kinds  of  reality  implied  in 
the  complex  data  of  sense  perception, — out  of 
which  the  abstract  idea  is  always  drawn.  Nihil  est 
in  intellectu  quod  non  prius  fuerit  in  sensu.  For, 
in  the  scholastic  view,  to  abstract  is  the  law  of  the 
intellect;  its  function  of  abstraction  is  as  normal 
as  is  the  bodily  process  of  digestion.  The  moment 
the  intellect  enters  into  contact  with  reality,  it  re- 
acts upon  that  reality, — its  food,  as  it  were — by  as- 

2  Sensus  non  est  cognoscitivus  nisi  particularium.     Thomas   Aqui- 
nas, Summa  Contra  Gentiles,  lib.  II,  cap.  LXVI. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  181 

similating  it  to  itself  and  therefore  by  divesting  it 
of  every  particularized  condition. 

The  question  naturally  arises,  just  how  does  the 
intellect  form  these  abstract  ideas  through  contact 
with  concrete  objects  of  sense?  The  scholastic 
would  reply  by  reference  to  his  theory  of  the  intel- 
lectus  agens.  But  this  would  take  us  too  far  afield 
for  our  purposes  here.^  Their  conclusion  alone  is 
significant  for  our  present  study;  namely,  abstract 
knowledge  differs  from  sense  perception  not  in  de- 
gree but  in  kind.  For,  the  content  of  our  abstract 
ideas, — the  motion  and  force  and  life  of  our  horses 
and  carriages,  in  the  above  illustration — is  quite  in- 
dependent of  the  particular  ties  of  time  and  space, 
and  of  all  material  conditions  in  which  reality  as 
perceived  by  the  senses  is  involved.  Consequently, 
abstract  knowledge  is  superior  to  sense  perception ; 
abstraction  is  the  royal  privilege  of  man.  This 
superiority  of  intellect  is  as  much  a  matter  of  grate- 
ful pride  to  the  scholastics  as  it  was  to  Plato  and 
to  Aristotle. 

II 

Intellectualism  furnishes  also  a  solution  in  the 
field  of  epistemology, — the  problem  of  the  value  of 
knowledge;  for  it  establishes  truth  on  a  firm  foun- 
dation, while  at  the  same  time  it  fixes  the  limits  of 
reason.     Truth  is  something  which  pertains  to  the 

3  For  detailed  account  of  this  conception  see  D.  Mercier,  Psychol- 
ogie,  Louvain,  1912,  vol.  II,  pp.  39  ff. 


182  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

intellect.  "For  truth  consists  in  saying  that  a  being 
is  when  it  is,  or  that  it  is  not  when  it  is  not."*  Con- 
sequently certitude,  which  is  nothing  but  a  firm 
assent  to  truth,  is  a  possession  of  understanding  and 
reason;  it  does  not  depend  on  will  or  on  sentiment 
or  on  pragmatical  efficiency.  Here  is  one  of  the 
basic  differences  between  scholastic  philosophy  and 
an  important  contemporary  tendency  in  epistemol- 
ogy,  which  insists  on  some  "non-intellectualistic" 
criterion  of  certitude.^ 

The  intellect  grasps  "being";  it  can  somehow  as- 
similate all  that  is:  intellectus  potest  quodammodo 
omnia  fieri.  Moreover,  when  it  grasps  being,  it  is 
infallible.  "In  the  figure  of  Ezekiel,  "writes  Meis- 
ter  Eckhart,  who  with  his  wonderful  power  for 
imagery  expresses  splendidly  this  particular  idea, 
"the  intellect  is  that  mighty  eagle,  with  wide  reach 
of  wing,  which  descended  upon  Lebanon  and  seized 
the  cedar's  marrow  as  its  prey, — that  is  to  say,  the 
constitution  of  the  thing — and  plucked  the  topmost 
bloom  of  foliage."''  There  is  no  error  in  the  under- 
standing itself;  it  is  always  true  as  regards  being, 

4  Thomas  Aquinas,  Perihermeneias,  I,  3. 

5  For  fuller  details,  see  my  Histoire  de  la  Philosophie  Medievale, 
p.  2'46. 

6  Intellectus  enim  est  in  figura  aquila  ilia  grandis  Eze.  17  longo 
membrorum  ductu,  que  venit  ad  Lybanum  et  tulit  medullam  cedri, 
id  est,  principia  rei,  et  summitatem  frondium  ejus  avulsit.  Edit. 
Denifle  (Archiv  fiir  Litteratur  und  Kirchengeschichte  des  Mittel- 
alters,  1886,  p.  566). 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  183 

its  object  proper/  Error  lies  only  in  the  judg- 
ment, when  we  combine  two  concepts  and  declare 
that  their  contents  coincide,  although  in  reality  they 
are  in  disagreement.  It  follows  from  this  that 
reason  in  our  life  has  genuine  worth ;  it  is  not  a  way- 
ward will-o'-the-wisp  which  leads  him  astray  who 
trusts  to  it, — it  is  a  torch  which  illumines. 

But  that  which  the  intellect  understands  is  only 
a  small  measure  of  reality;  therefore,  one  must  un- 
derstand the  limits  of  reason.  Intellectual  knowl- 
edge is  imperfect  and  inadequate.  First,  because 
our  ideas  are  derived  from  the  content  of  sense-per- 
ception, from  which  follows  that  we  cannot  know 
properly  more  than  the  realities  of  sense;  accord- 
ingly, the  supersensible  can  be  known  only  by  an- 
alogy. From  this  point  of  view,  the  human  intelli- 
gence is  no  longer  the  powerful  eagle,  but  the 
winged  creature  of  night,  the  bat  {noctua),  which 
faces  with  difficulty  the  full  light  of  the  sun, — the 
supersensible  realm.  Moreover,  even  the  corporeal 
reality  is  apprehended  by  imperfect  processes.  We 
know  only  the  general  determinations  of  being,  no- 
tions of  what  is  common,  for  instance,  to  live  or  to 
move  in  various  living  or  moving  beings.  The  na- 
ture of  the  individual  as  such  escapes  us, — even 
though,  with  Duns  Scotus,  we  derive  a  kind  of  con- 

7  Intellectus  circa  proprium  objectum  semper  verus  est;  unde  et 
seipso  numquam  decipitur;  sed  omnis  deceptio  accidit  in  inteUectu 
et  aliquo  inferiori,  puta  phantasia  vel  aliquo  hujusmodi.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Summa  Theol.,  1*,  q.  XCIV,  art.  4. 


184  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

fused  intuition  of  the  concrete  and  singular.  Fur- 
thermore, these  general  notions  do  not  even  mani- 
fest what  is  specific  in  the  essences  which  are 
known ;  indeed,  we  employ  the  same  common  notion 
of  life  for  plants  and  animals  and  men,  and  we  are 
condemned  to  ignorance  of  the  innermost  reality 
peculiar  to  the  life  in  each  class  of  these  living  be- 
ings. On  all  sides,  therefore,  reality  surpasses 
knowledge;  the  unknowable  encompasses  us  round 
about. 

Ill 

Yet  this  very  same  reason,  at  once  so  glorified 
and  humbled,  is  the  queen  of  conscious  life.  It 
rules  the  appetitive  life,  by  restraining  the  passions 
and  lower  appetites.  Reason  shines  as  a  torch 
which  lights  and  directs  the  will,  necessary  or  free. 
We  will  only  what  we  know  as  good — nihil  volituin 
nisi  cognitum — and  already  this  precedence  of  in- 
tellect over  will  establishes  a  dependence  of  the  will 
on  the  intellect. 

It  is  because  we  are  reasonable  beings  that  free 
volitions  are  psychologically  possible.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  and  Duns  Scotus  too^ — so  long  regarded 
as  holding  here  a  different  view — gives  a  remark- 
able intellectual  explanation  of  liberty  which  is  not 
found  in  any  preceding  system. 

8  See  P.  Minges,  1st  Duns  Scotus  Indeterminist?  Baiimker's- 
Beitrage,  1905,  V,  4.  Cf.  my  Histoire  de  la  Philosophie  MSdievale, 
p.  460. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  185 

We  are  drawn  to  the  good.  This  means  that  we 
are  inchned  to  will  whatever  reality  is  presented  as 
capable  of  satisfying  a  certain  indwelling  tendency, 
— our  tendency,  namely,  toward  what  is  considered 
to  be  suitable  to  us.  Just  as  the  intellect  conceives 
being  in  the  abstract,  as  integral  being,  so  it  con- 
ceives the  good  as  such,  the  general  good.  For 
when  the  intellect  acts,  it  obeys  the  law  of  its  activi- 
ty; and  in  doing  so  it  abstracts  the  good  as  such, 
and  sees  in  this  (or  any)  being  the  good  which  it 
contains.  Only  the  complete  good  can  draw  us  ir- 
resistibly, because  it  alone  satisfies  this  intellectual 
tendency  of  our  nature.^  It  is  then  impossible  for 
the  will  not  to  will  it.  If  the  Infinite  Good  should 
manifest  Himself,  the  soul  would  be  drawn  towards 
it,  as  iron  is  attracted  by  the  magnet.  The  attrac- 
tions which  the  martyrs  felt  for  the  benefits  of  this 
life,  at  the  very  moment  when  they  preferred  to  die, 
remarks  Duns  Scotus,  is  the  sign  and  effect  of  this 
necessary  tendency  toward  the  good,  the  good  as  a 
totality. 

But  during  our  earthly  life  the  good  never  ap- 
pears to  us  unadulterated ;  for  every  good  is  limited. 
The  moment  we  reflect,  the  limitation  is  perceived; 
every  good  is  good  only  under  certain  aspects;  it 
contains  deficiencies.  Then  the  intellect  places  me 
before  two  intellectual  judgments.     For  example, 

9  Objectum  autem  voluntatis  quae  est  appetitus  humanus,  est  uni- 
versale bonum,  sicut  objectum  intellectus  est  universale  verum. 
Thomas  Aquinas.     Summa  Theol,  la2ae,  q.  II,  art.  8. 


186  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

it  is  good  for  me  to  undertake  a  journey;  not  to  un- 
dertake it  contains  also  some  good.  Behold,  I  am 
called  upon  to  judge  my  own  judgments.  Which 
judgment  shall  I  choose?  The  will  must  decide, — 
and  it  decides  freely,  for  neither  judgment  enjoins 
a  necessary  adhesion.  We  will  freely  the  good 
which  we  choose,  not  because  it  is  the  greater  good, 
but  because  it  is  some  good.  In  a  sense  we  may 
say  that  our  choice  stops  with  the  good  which  we 
consider  the  best.  But,  in  the  last  analysis,  this  is 
true  only  if  we  add,  that  the  will  freely  intervenes 
in  the  decision.  In  other  words,  it  is  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  will  that  the  practical  intellect  makes 
its  judgment,  that  the  one  or  the  other  course  of  ac- 
tion is  the  better.  The  will  can  in  reality  give  its 
preference  to  either  of  the  alternatives.  At  the 
moment  of  definite  choice,  deliberation  ceases  and 
gives  place  to  decision.  So  Thomas  and  Duns 
Scotus  avoided  the  psychological  determinism 
which  puzzled  other  scholastics, — such  as  Godfrey 
of  Fontaines  and  John  Buridan. 

Thus,  liberty  resides  in  the  will,  but  it  has  its 
roots  in  the  judgment.  Consequently,  a  free  act  is 
a  deliberate  act,  and  entirely  reflective.  An  act  of 
this  kind  is  not  a  common  thing.  Indeed,  whole 
days  pass  during  which  we  do  not  make  intellectual 
decisions, — that  is,  in  the  scholastic  meaning  of  the 
word. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  187 

IV 

Scholastic  intellectualism  is  quite  evident,  not 
only  in  the  remaining  branches  of  psychology,  but 
also  in  logic,  in  metaphysics,  in  aesthetics,  and  in 
morals. 

Abstraction,  which  is  the  fundamental  operation 
of  the  intellect,  establishes  the  spirituality  of  the 
soul;  for  a  being  capable  of  producing  thoughts,  the 
content  of  which  is  free  from  the  chains  of  matter, 
is  itself  above  matter.'^  It  justifies  the  natural 
union  of  soul  and  body,  because  the  normal  func- 
tion of  the  organism  cannot  be  dissociated  from  the 
act  of  thinking.  It  furnishes  an  argument  in  fa- 
vour of  a  new  union  of  the  soul  with  the  body  in 
the  resurrection,  because  the  body  is  the  indispen- 
sable instrument  of  intellectual  activity. 

Is  it  necessary  to  observe  that  every  theory  of 
science,  or  scientific  logic,  is  incomprehensible  with- 
out intellectualism?  Scientific  judgments  are 
necessary  judgments,  laws;  and  they  are  not  of 
necessity  without  abstraction  and  generalization. 
On  abstraction  is  based  the  theory  of  the  syllogism, 
the  value  of  first  principles,  of  definitions,  of  di- 
visions, and  of  everything  which  enters  into  con- 
structive procedure.  Before  Henry  Poincare,  the 
scholastics  had  said,  "Science  will  be  intellectual  or 
it  will  cease  to  be." 

The  perception  of  a  work  of  art,  and  of  its  beauty, 

10  Thomas  Aquinas,  De  Anima,  lib.  Ill,  lect.  vii. 


188  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

is  also  an  act  of  the  intellect.  Beauty  ought  to  be 
resplendent,  claritas  jpulchri,  it  ought  to  reveal,  and 
in  a  striking  way,  the  internal  order  that  governs 
beauty.  It  speaks  to  the  faculty  of  knowing,  and 
above  all  to  the  intellect. 

What  is  true  of  the  perception  of  a  work  of  art 
is  true  also  of  its  production.  Man's  artistic  fac- 
ulty,— by  virtue  of  which  the  carpenter  and  the 
sculptor  achieve  their  results — consists  in  a  right 
use  of  reason;  for  the  reason  alone  can  subordi- 
nate the  means  to  the  end.  Ars  nihil  aliud  est  quam 
ratio  recta  aliquorum  operum  faciendorum.  The 
"virtue  of  art,"  virtus  artis, — for  the  humble  artisan 
as  for  the  gifted  artist — consists  far  more  in  a  per- 
fection of  the  spirit  than  in  any  virtuosity  or  muscu- 
lar dexterity."'' 

A  like  sovereignty  obtains  in  the  moral  realm. 
Reason  teaches  us  our  duties  and  guides  our  con- 
science. Reason  gives  a  characteristic  significance 
to  destiny  and  happiness.  To  be  happy  is  above 
all  to  know,  because  happiness  consists  in  the  high- 
est activities  of  our  highest  psychical  power,  which 
is  understanding.'^  Even  in  this  life,  knowledge  is 
a   great    consolation.      Beatitude,    or   the    perfect 

^0=^  Swmma  Theol,  lagae,  q.  LVII,  art.  3:  Utrum  habitus  intel- 
lectualis  qui  est  ars,  sit  virtus.  Read  all  of  arts.  3,  4,  and  5,  for  in- 
teresting suggestions  on  the  intellectualistic  theory  of  art.  Cf.  my 
study,  L'Oeuvre  d'art  et  la  Beaute,  Louvain,  1930,  ch.  VI. 

11  Oportet  quod  (beatitudo)  sit  optima  operatic  hominis.  Optima 
autem  operatio  hominis  est  quae  est  optimae  potentiae  respectu 
optimi  objecti.  Optima  autem  potentia  est  intellectus,  etc.  Summa 
Theol,  lagae,  q.  HI,  art.  5. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  189 

goodness  destined  for  man, — that  alone  which  phi- 
losophy considers — would  be  a  "happiness  of  ab- 
stractions," a  goodness  founded  on  abstract  knowl- 
edge of  the  laws  and  the  being  of  the  sensible  world, 
a  knowledge  and  love  of  the  Creator  in  His  works. '^ 

The  supremacy  of  reason  appears  also  in  meta- 
physics, where  it  explains  the  fundamental  order 
of  things,  which  rests  entirely  on  Divine  Reason. 
It  manifests  itself  in  the  immutability  of  natural  as 
well  as  moral  law,  which  God  could  not  change, 
without  contradicting  Eternal  Reason,  that  is  to 
say,  without  destroying  Himself.  No  will,  not 
even  the  will  of  God,  can  change  the  nature  of 
truth ;  and  truth  can  no  more  contradict  truth  than 
a  circle  can  be  quadrate. 

Finally,  this  same  supremacy  of  reason  is  appar- 
ent in  their  whole  theory  of  the  state,  where  gov- 
ernment is  conceived  as  being  properly  a  govern- 
ment of  insight;  from  whose  laws  everything  arbi- 
trary ought  to  be  excluded;  where  the  elective  sys- 
tem is  justified  because  it  favours  the  exercise  of 
reason. 

12  Compare  the  following  excerpt  from  an  unedited  text  of  the 
thirteenth  century  (as  in  Grabmann,  "Forschungen  iiber  die  latein- 
ischen  Aristoteles-Uebersetzenigen  d.  XIII  Jhr.,"  p.  76  in  Baiim- 
ker''s-Beit7-dge,  1916,  XVII,  5-6) :  "Cum  omne  desiderii  com- 
pos et  maxime  creatura  rationalis  appetat  suam  perfectionem,  sum- 
ma  vero  et  finalis  perfectio  hominis  sit  in  cognitione  unius  intellec- 
tualis  veri  et  in  amore  unius  incommutabilis  boni,  quod  est  nosse 
et  amare  suum  creatorem,  et  medium  praecipue  inducens  ad  cog- 
noscendum  et  amandum  creatorem  sit  cognitio  consideratione  operum 
creatoris,  etc." 

121"  s  See  ch^  XI. 


190  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 


But  this  clear-cut  intellectualism  and  love  of  pre- 
cision, appears  also  in  other  forms  of  culture  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  It  inspires  even  the  smallest 
detail  of  that  doctrinal  structure  elaborated  by  the 
doctors  of  theology,  giving  to  each  element  of  be- 
lief an  apologetic  and  rational  interpretation.  It 
is  found  in  the  works  of  canonists,  who  reason  out 
the  ecclesiastical  law,  just  as  jurists  reason  out  the 
Roman  law.  Intellectualism  is  found  also  in  the 
explanation  of  rites  and  symbols,  the  manifold 
meanings  of  which  such  a  man  as  William  of  Mende 
endeavoured  to  unfold  in  his  Rationale  Divinorum, 
It  is  further  found  in  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  of  the 
poet  Jean  de  Meung,  where  Reason  is  personified 
and  fills  the  poem  with  long  discourses,  as  she  filled 
with  her  dictates  the  lives  of  mediaeval  men.^^ 

The  same  intellectualism  and  the  same  clearness 
appears  also  in  the  Gothic  architecture  and  sculp- 

13  It  is,  then,  not  surprising  that  Dante,  educated  in  scholastic 
circles,  wrote  these  words  in  his  De  Monarchia  (lib.  1):  "Reason  is 
to  the  individual  what  the  father  is  to  the  family,  or  what  the  mayor 
is  to  the  city.  It  is  master.  In  all  matters  reason  makes  its  voice 
heard."  The  Banquet,  or  Convito,  addresses  itself  to  those  who 
hunger  for  knowledge,  and  contemplates  making  all  humanity  par- 
ticipate in  knowledge, — that  "good  desired  of  all,"  that  supreme 
form  of  happiness.  In  the  Divine  Comedy  Dante  exalts  the  man  who 
sacrifices  his  life  in  the  promotion  of  knowledge.  Virgil  represents 
human  knowledge,  which  the  soul  must  acquire  in  its  plentitude  be- 
fore being  admitted  to  the  divine  mysteries.  And  in  the  Paradiso, 
each  of  the  elect  enjoys  to  the   full  that  beatitude  "which  he  can 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  191 

ture,  where  everything  is  reasoned  and  rational. 
Has  it  not  been  said  with  justice  that  Gothic  archi- 
tecture is  an  appHcation  of  logic  in  poems  in  stone, 
that  it  speaks  as  forcibly  and  clearly  to  the  mind  as 
to  the  eye?  It  is  nothing  more  than  the  most  logi- 
cal application  of  the  laws  of  gravitation.  The 
pointed  arch  windows  and  the  double  arched  vaults 
express  their  function  admirably,  as  do  also  the  sup- 
ports and  the  buttresses.  Everywhere  we  find 
beauty  rationalized;  no  superfluous  ornaments, 
nothing  of  that  fantastic  decoration  which  spoiled 
the  Gothic  idea  in  the  fifteenth  century.  In  those 
lines  of  clearness  and  purity  which  we  see  in  the 
naves  of  the  cathedral  of  Rheims,  Paris,  Amiens, 
and  Chartres  all  is  sober  and  reasonable.  The  walls 
have  let  themselves  be  cleft  in  order  to  admit  the 
light, — the  light  filled  first,  however,  with  those 
dreams  imparted  by  the  glass ;  and  the  felt  need  of 
light  issued  finally  in  creating  churches  that  are 
transparent,  as  it  were,  where  all  is  subordinated  to 
the  idea  of  illumination. 

Nor  is  it  otherwise  with  the  sculpture  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  form  of  which  is  vivified  by  clear 
and  severe  concepts.  "The  iconography  of  the 
thirteenth  century,"  writes  M.  Male,  "aims  to  speak 
to  the  intelligence  and  not  to  the  feelings.  It  is 
doctrinal  and  theological,  that  is  to  say,  logical  and 
rational;  but  there  is  nothing  pathetic  or  tender 
about  it.  The  great  religious  compositions  speak 
to  the  mind,  and  not  to  the  heart.     Consider,  for 


192  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

instance,  how  the  artists  of  the  thirteenth  century 
conceive  the  Nativity:  Mary  rechnes  on  a  couch 
with  head  averted;  the  Child  is  not  in  a  crib,  but 
upon  an  altar;  a  lamp  is  suspended  over  His  head 
between  parted  curtains."^*  Every  point  directs 
the  mind  to  dogma  and  to  doctrine.  Human  emo- 
tion is  silent  before  such  a  conception,  and  the  same 
is  true  when  the  tranquil  Virgin  bears  in  her  arms, 
or  upon  her  knees,  the  Infant  Saviour;  or  when 
she  assists,  in  her  grief,  but  without  weakness,  at 
the  crucifixion  of  her  Son.  It  is  only  after  the 
fourteenth  century  that  art  becomes  tender,  that 
the  Virgin  smiles  and  weeps,  and  "the  symbolic 
apple  which  the  serious  Virgin  of  the  thirteenth 
holds  in  her  hand  to  remind  us  that  she  is  the  sec- 
ond Eve,  becomes  a  plaything  to  prevent  the  child 
Jesus  from  crying. "^° 

Society  is  also  intellectualized,  in  its  entirety,  in 
the  sense  that  the  whole  age  craves  for  order.  Of 
course  the  thirteenth  century  is  filled  with  quarrels 
and  revolts,  and  hostilities  break  out  everywhere; 
this  signifies  only  that  it  was  no  more  possible  to 
realize  fully  a  social  ideal  in  that  age  than  in  any 
other.  But  the  ideal  existed  none  the  less  and  it 
was  efiicacious.  The  relations  of  vassals  and  suze- 
rains and  of  the  subjects  and  kings,  the  participa- 
tion of  the  feudal  classes  in  the  prerogatives  of  gov- 
ernment, the  establishment  of  national  parliaments, 

14  Male,  L'art  religieux  du  13'e  sUcle  en  France,  1910,  p.  221. 

15  Ibid.,  p.  239. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  193 

the  codification  of  civil  and  canon  law,  the  organi- 
zation of  crafts  and  guilds,  the  absolute  and  inter- 
national hierarchy  of  the  Church,  the  subordination 
of  states  to  the  moral  authority  of  the  Pope, — all 
of  these  were  regarded  by  the  intellectual  classes  as 
the  Ibest  means  of  establishing  things  in  their  proper 
places.  Order,  said  Thomas  Aquinas,  reveals  in 
every  case  the  intervention  of  mind.  '' Intellectus 
solius  est  ordinaref'^^  Only  the  mind  is  able  to  set 
things  in  order.  Naturally,  therefore,  intellectual- 
ism  makes  its  appearance  in  everything. 

16  7w  Ethic,  ad  Nicomach.,  Lect.  I,  7. 


CHAPTER  NINE 


A  Pluralistic  Conception  of  the  World 

i.  What  metaphysics  is.  ii.  Static  aspects  of  reality,  iii. 
Dynamic  aspects;  the  central  doctrine  of  act  and  potency, 
iv.  Application  to  substance  and  accident;  to  matter  and  form. 
V.  The  problem  of  individuation.  vi.  Human  personality, 
vii.  God:  as  pure  existence. 


To  inquire  into  the  conception  of  the  world  of- 
fered by  the  scholastics  is  to  enter  into  the  realm 
of  their  metaphysics.  Real  beings  exist  outside  of 
us.  We  know  them  first  by  means  of  sense-per- 
ception. Then  the  intellect  divests  the  realities  of- 
fered by  sense-perception  of  their  individualizing 
and  particular  features,  so  that  the  object  is  laid 
hold  of  as  abstract  and  permits  generalization. 
Metaphysical  inquiry  is  thus  based  upon  abstract 
knowledge  both  of  what  lies  at  the  heart  of  cor- 
poreal beings  and  of  determinations  which  belong 
to  all  being. 

What  is  reality?  To  make  clear  the  scholastic 
answer  to  this  question,  I  propose  to  consider  re- 
ality successively  under  two  aspects :  first,  the  static 
aspect,  or  reality  in  the  state  of  repose ;  second,  the 

194 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  195 

dynamic  aspect,  or  reality  in  the  state  of  change. 
I  use  these  technical  expressions  provisionally ;  they 
will  become  clearer  as  we  proceed. 

II 

tet  us  suppose  for  the  moment  an  impossibility ; 
namely,  that  the  whirling  universe  in  the  midst  of 
which  we  live  should  stop  suddenly,  and  that  in  this 
state  of  universal  repose  we  could  take  a  snap-shot 
of  this  static  universe.  In  this  state,  of  what  would 
the  real  world  consist?  Scholasticism  would  reply: 
of  an  indefinite  number  of  beings^  independent,  in 
their  eodstence,  each  froin  the  other.  Each  man, 
each  animal,  each  plant,  each  mono-cellular  organ- 
ism, each  particle  of  matter  exists  by  itself,  in  its 
impenetrable  individuality.  The  individual  alone 
eooists.  Such  is  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  schol- 
astic metaphysics  and  it  was  inherited  from  the 
twelfth  century.  It  belongs  to  natural  science,  and 
not  to  philosophy,  to  tell  us  what  that  individual  is. 
Is  it  the  atom,  the  ion,  the  electron?  Scholastic 
metaphysics  would  follow  modern  science  to  the 
innermost  division  of  reality.  Whatever  it  may  be, 
it  is  only  the  individual  that  exists. 

Thus,  scholasticism  is  a  pliu'alistic  philosophy, 
and  the  sworn  enemy  of  monism,  which  teaches  the 
fusion  of  all  realities  in  one.  Accordingly,  Thomas 
Aquinas  speaks  of  the  Fons  Vitae  of  Avicebron,  an 
apologetic  of  Neo-Platonic  and  Arabian  panthe- 


196  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ism,  as  being  a  poisoned  well  rather  than  a  fountain 
of  life. 

Let  us  consider  more  closely  one  of  these  myriad 
individual  realities,  which  surround  us  on  all  sides, 
— for  example,  that  oak-tree  planted  yonder.  The 
individuality  here  presented  includes  many  ele- 
ments: it  has  a  determinable  thickness  and  height, 
a  cylindrical  form  of  trunk,  a  roughness  of  bark, 
a  somber  color  of  foliage,  a  place  which  it  occupies 
in  the  forest,  a  certain  action  of  its  foliage  upon 
the  ambient  air,  a  specific  subjection  to  influence  as 
it  absorbs  the  nourishing  sap  from  the  ground. 
These  are  all  so  many  determinations  of  being  or, 
to  use  the  scholastic  language,  so  many  classes, 
categories, — categories  of  quantity,  quality,  action, 
passion,  time,  space  and  relation. 

Now,  all  of  these  classes,  or  categories,  presup- 
pose a  yet  more  fundamental  one.  Can  you  con- 
ceive, asks  Aristotle,  the  reality  of  walking  with- 
out some  one  who  walks?  Can  you  conceive  quan- 
tity, thickness,  and  the  rest,  without  something, — 
our  oak-tree  above — which  possesses  it?  Neither 
the  action  of  walking  nor  the  extension  of  quantity 
can  be  conceived  apart  from  a  subject  in  which  they 
exist.  And  it  is  such  a  subject  which  Aristotle  and 
the  scholastics  call  substance, — the  fundamental 
category,  as  distinguished  from  the  other  classes, 
which  they  call  accidents  {accidentia). 

Not  only  do  we  conceive  corporeal  realities  in 
terms  of  substance  and  accidents, — and  no  philos- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  197 

ophy  denies  the  existence  in  our  minds  of  these  two 
concepts — but  also  the  substance  and  the  accidents 
exist  independently  and  outside  of  our  minds.  In 
the  order  of  existence,  as  in  the  order  of  our 
thought,  substance  and  accident  are  relative  to  each 
other.  One  who  succeeds  in  proving  the  external 
existence  of  the  accident^  (for  instance,  the  thick- 
ness of  the  tree),  also  proves  the  existence  of  the 
substance  (that  is,  the  tree) .  If  the  act  of  walking 
is  not  an  illusion  but  something  real,  the  same  must 
be  equally  true  of  the  substantial  being  who  walks, 
without  whom  there  would  be  no  act  of  walk- 
ing. The  substance,  or  subject,  exists  in  and  by  it- 
self; it  is  self-sufficient.  But  it  is  also  the  support 
of  all  the  rest,  which  therefore  are  called  accidentia 
(id  quod  accidit  alicui  rei) . 

As  for  my  own  substance,  the  substance  of  my- 
self as  a  human  being, — that  is  personality — there 
is  the  witness  of  consciousness,  by  its  several  ac- 
tivities, to  the  existence  of  just  such  a  substantial 
Ego.  In  thinking  and  speaking,  and  so  on,  I  at- 
tain to  my  own  existing  substance.  The  scholastics 
were  essentially  familiar  with  the  cogito  ergo  sum. 
Without  permanence  of  personality,  memory  would 
be  inexplicable.     If  I   were  only  a  collection  of 

1  Scholasticism  proves  the  objectivity  of  our  external  sense-per- 
ception by  the  mark  of  passivity  (of  which  we  are  conscious)  and 
by  the  principle  of  causality:  quidquid  movetur  ab  alio  movetur. 
We  are  conscious  of  being  passive  in  external  sensation;  conse- 
quently we  do  not  create  it, — therefore  it  must  come  from  a  non-ego. 


198  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ephemeral  activities,  what  Taine  calls  a  collection 
of  shy-rockets  of  consciousness  {''gerhes  lumineu- 
ses"),  how  could  one  sky-rocket  remember  an- 
other? How  could  I  then  remember  in  maturity 
the  acts  of  my  boyhood?  But,  not  only  do  I  re- 
member such  acts,  I  am  also  conscious  of  being  the 
same  personality;  my  acts  disappear,  my  body 
changes,  but  I  remain  a  subject  independent  of 
these  acts  and  changes. 

The  frequent  misunderstanding  of  the  scholastic 
theory  of  substance  rests  upon  two  misconcep- 
tions of  what  that  theory  involved:  first,  that  one 
knows  wherein  one  substance  differs  from  another; 
second,  that  substance  is  something  underlying  ac- 
cidental realities.  Now,  as  regards  the  former, 
scholastic  philosophy  never  pretended  to  know 
wherein  one  substance  differed  from  another  in  the 
external  world.  It  thought  of  substance  as  an  idea 
resulting  from  reasoning,  which  does  not  instruct 
regarding  what  is  specific  in  each  of  the  substances  f 
one  knows  that  they  are  and  must  be,  but  never 
what  they  are.  Indeed,  the  idea  of  substance  is  es- 
sentially thin.  And  the  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Ego,  as  the  substance  best  known  to  each  individual 
person;  consciousness  witnesses  to  its  existence,  but 
never  to  its  nature, — as  Descartes  erroneously  sup- 
posed. A  proof  that  consciousness  alone  does  not 
instruct  us  regarding  our  own  nature,  says  scholas- 
ticism,  is  the   discussion   among   philosophers   on 

2  See  above,  p,  184. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  199 

the  nature  of  the  soul.  The  second  misconception 
above  mentioned,  may  be  readily  disposed  of.  To 
imagine  that  something  lies  behind  or  underneath 
the  accidents,  as  the  door  underlies  the  painted 
color,  is  simply  a  misinterpretation  of  the  scholastic 
theory,  Locke  especially  was  here  in  error;  of 
course  he  had  no  difficulty  in  criticizing  this  concep- 
tion as  ridiculous.  But  this  interpretation  is  totally 
wrong.  In  the  scholastic  view,  substance  and  ac- 
cidents are  really  one  and  the  same  concrete  exist- 
ing thing.  Indeed,  substance  is  that  which  confers 
individuality  upon  the  particular  determinations,  or 
accidents.  It  is  therefore  the  substance  of  the  oak- 
tree  which  constitutes  the  foundation  of  its  individ- 
uality, and  which  thus  confers  individuality  upon 
its  qualities,  the  dimensions  of  the  oak  and  all  the 
train  of  accidental  determinations  which  belong  to 
its  concrete  individuality. 

This  ''tout  ensemble''  of  substance  and  accidental 
determinations,  both  taken  together,  exists  by  vir- 
tue of  one  existence  alone,  the  existence  of  the  con- 
crete oak-tree  which  we  have  considered  as  fixed 
and  motionless  in  the  static  instant  above  described. 

Ill 

But  such  a  picture  of  the  world  is  not  a  possible 
picture;  for  nothing  is  motionless.  Reality  is  in- 
volved in  change  and  in  evolution.  Chemical  bod- 
ies are  in  constant  change,  in  all  stages  of  their  ex- 
istence, be  it  liquid  or  gaseous  or  solid;  living  or- 


200  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ganisms  are  changing;  our  globe  as  a  whole  is 
ceaselessly  borne  along  in  a  twofold  movement ;  the 
sun  with  its  train  of  planets  is  subject  to  the  law  of 
change,  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  stars  scattered 
throughout  the  immensity  of  space.  Substance 
and  accident:  all  is  becoming.  The  oak  springs 
from  the  acorn,  it  becomes  tall  and  massive,  its 
vital  activities  are  forever  changing,  and  the  tree 
itself  will  disappear.  In  order  to  understand  the 
full  meaning'  of  metaphysics,  it  is  necessary  to 
throw  being  into  the  melting  j)ot  of  change. 

Thus  the  static  point  of  view,  or  the  world  con- 
sidered in  the  state  of  repose,  must  be  supple- 
mented by  the  dynamic  point  of  view,  or  that  of 
the  world  drawn  into  becoming.  Here  appears  a 
further  scholastic  conception;  namely,  the  well- 
known  theory  of  act  and  potency ,  which  forms,  in 
my  opinion,  the  key-stone  in  the  vault  of  the  meta- 
physical structure.  This  theory  is  a  general  analy- 
sis of  what  change  implies.  The  scholastics  get  it 
from  Aristotle,  but  give  to  it  a  breadth  and  exten- 
sion unknown  to  the  Greek  philosopher.  What 
is  change,  any  change?  It  is  the  real  passage  from 
one  state  to  another.  Now,  they  observe,  when  one 
being  passes  from  state  A  to  state  B,  it  must  al- 
ready possess  in  A  the  germs  of  its  future  determi- 
nation in  B.  It  has  the  power,  the  potency,  to  be- 
come B  before  it  actually  does  so.  This  is 
demanded  by  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason — an 
absolute  principle  to  which  all  that  is  must  be  obed- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  201 

lent,  under  penalty  of  not  being  at  all.  To  deny 
this  sort  of  preexistence  is  equivalent  to  denying 
change  from  one  state  to  another,  the  evolution  of 
reality.  What  we  call  change  would  then  be  a  series 
of.  instantaneous  appearances  and  disappearances 
of  substances,  having  no  internal  connections  what- 
ever, each  with  duration  infinitesimally  small.  The 
oak  is  potentially  in  the  acorn;  if  it  were  not  there 
potentially,  how  could  it  ever  issue  from  it?  On 
the  other  hand,  the  oak  is  not  potentially  in  a  peb- 
ble, rolled  about  by  the  sea,  and  which  outwardly 
might  present  a  close  resemblance  to  the  acorn. 
Act  or  actuality  (the  evreAe'xeta  of  Aristotle,  the  actus 
of  the  scholastics)  is  any  present  sum-total  of  per- 
fection. Potency  (8wa/zt?  potentia  of  the  scholas- 
tics) is  the  aptitude  to  become  that  perfection.  It 
is  imperfection  and  non-being,  if  you  will ;  but  it  is 
not  mere  nothing,  because  non-being  considered  in 
an  already  existing  subject  is  endowed  with  the 
germ  of  future  actualization. 

The  coupling  of  act  and  potency  therefore  pene- 
trates reality  in  its  inmost  depths.  It  explains  all 
the  great  conceptions  of  scholastic  metaphysics. 
Especially  does  it  explain  those  two  great  doctrines, 
in  which  we  shall  follow  the  play  of  act  and  po- 
tency,— namely,  the  doctrine  of  substance  and  ac- 
cident, and  the  doctrine  of  matter  and  form. 


202  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

IV 

The  doctrine  of  substance  and  accident  is  thus 
rounded  out  and  clarified  by  the  coupling  of  act 
and  potency;  indeed,  an  adequate  understanding 
of  the  former  requires  the  latter.  Thus,  to  say  that 
a  being  already  constituted  in  its  substantial  de- 
termination is  changing,  means  that  it  is  actually 
realizing  its  'potentialities.  A  child  is  already  po- 
tentially the  powerful  athlete  he  will  some  day  be- 
come. If  he  is  destined  to  become  a  mathematician, 
then  already  in  the  cradle  he  possesses  this  power, 
or  predisposition,  whereas  another  infant  is  de- 
prived of  it.  Quantitative  and  qualitative  change, 
change  in  the  activities  brought  about  by  actual 
being  and  in  the  activity  undergone, — all  of  this 
was  able  to  he  before  being  in  fact. 

Considered  in  the  light  of  this  theory,  the  doc- 
trine of  substance  and  accident  loses  its  naive  and 
false  significance.  A  growing  oak,  a  living  man, 
a  chemical  individuality  of  any  kind,  each  of  the 
myriad  individual  beings,  is  indeed  an  individual 
substance  becoming,  because  its  quantity,  qualities, 
activities,  relations  are  the  becoming  of  its  poten- 
tialities. Leibnitz  was  really  following  this  thomis- 
tic  doctrine  when  he  said:  "The  present  is  preg- 
nant with  the  future."  But  more  than  this.  While 
Leibnitz  also  taught  the  eternity  and  the  immuta- 
bility of  substances,  which  he  called  monads, 
Thomas  and  the  scholastics  go  further  into  the 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  203 

heart  of  change.  It  is  not  only  the  accidents 
which  change  when,  for  example,  the  oak  grows, 
or  its  wood  becomes  tougher,  or  its  place  changes 
when  it  is  transplanted,  or  its  activities  are  re- 
newed as  it  develops ;  but  the  very  substances  them- 
selves are  carried  into  the  maelstrom  of  change, 
and  nature  makes  us  witness  to  the  unceasing  spec- 
tacle of  their  transforaiations.  The  oak  dies;  and 
from  the  slow  work  of  its  decomposition  are  born 
chemical  bodies  of  most  diverse  kinds.  An  electric 
current  traverses  the  molecule  of  water;  and  behold 
hydrogen  and  oxygen  arise. 

All  of  this  is  essentially  scholastic  doctrine. 
When  one  substance  changes  into  another,  each 
has  a  quite  different  specificity.  Substances  differ 
not  in  degree  but  in  kind.  An  oak  never  changes 
into  another  oak,  nor  a  particle  of  water  into  an- 
other particle  of  water.  But  out  of  a  dying  oak,  or 
a  decomposed  particle  of  water,  are  born  chemical 
bodies,  which  appear  with  quite  different  activities, 
quantities,  relations,  and  so  on.^  The  differences 
of  all  these  activities,  quantities,  and  the  rest,  are 
for  us  the  only  means  of  knowing  the  substances  of 
things,  because  the  activity  of  a  thing  gives  its 
measure  of  perfection  and  springs  out  of  it :  ''agere 
sequitur  esse/'    And  hence  corresponding  to  irre- 

3  "There  is  not  the  slightest  parity  between  the  passive  and  the 
active  powers  of  the  water  and  those  of  the  oxygen  and  the  hydrogen 
which  have  given  rise  to  it,"  says  Huxley  in  Lay  Sermons,  ("The 
Physical  Basis  of  Life"),  New  York,  1874,  p.  136. 


204  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ducible  activities  and  qualities  there  must  be  irre- 
ducible substances.  Of  course,  the  scholastics  were 
unable  to  observe,  as  we  can,  the  chemical  activities 
of  corporeal  bodies.  But  this  is  simply  a  matter  of 
application  and  the  principle  remains.  The  sub- 
stance of  hydrogen  is  quite  different  from  that  of 
water;  this  is  what  I  have  called  the  specificity  of 
objects.  A  corporeal  substance  cannot  be  more  nor 
less  than  what  it  is.  Water  is  plainly  water 
or  it  is  something  quite  different;  it  cannot  have 
degrees  of  being  water.  Just  as  a  person  cannot 
be  more  or  less  man  than  another  man.  ''Essentia 
non  suscipit  plus  vel  minus/'  Accordingly,  the 
world  offers  the  greatest  diversity  of  irreducible 
substantial  perfections. 

But  let  us  consider  more  closely  this  phenome- 
non of  basic  change,  from  one  substance  into  an- 
other or  into  several  other  substances, — for  in- 
stance, water  becoming  hydrogen  and  oxygen.  If 
Thomas  had  been  invited  to  interpret  this  phenome- 
non, he  would  have  said:  that  the  substance  of  the 
water  transformed  itself  into  new  substances,  hy- 
drogen and  oxygen,  and  that  the  hydrogen  was  in 
the  water  potentially,  or  in  promise.  But  then,  he 
would  add,  every  substance  that  comes  into  being 
consists  at  bottom  of  two  constituent  elements;  on 
the  one  hand,  there  must  be  something  common  to 
the  old  state  and  to  the  new,  and  on  the  other  hand 
there  must  be  a  specific  principle.  That  which  is 
common  to  the  two  stages  of  the  process  is  an  in- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  205 

determination  found  equally  in  the  water  and  in 
the  hydrogen-oxygen.  Otherwise  the  one  could 
not  change  into  the  other;  no  transformation  of 
water  into  its  component  parts  would  occur,  but 
instead  there  would  be  annihilation  (of  the  water) 
followed  by  creation  (of  the  hydrogen-oxygen). 
As  for  the  specific  principle,  this  must  exist  at  each 
stage  of  the  process  as  a  peculiar  and  proper  factor 
whereby  the  water  as  such  differs  from  the  hydro- 
gen-oxygen as  such. 

With  this  we  come  to  the  theory  of  primary 
matter  and  substantial  form, — so  often  misunder- 
stood. This  is  really  nothing  but  an  application  of 
the  theory  of  act  and  potency  to  the  problem  of  the 
transformation  of  bodies.  Primary  matter  is 
the  common  indeterminate  element  or  substratum, 
capable  of  receiving  successively  contrary  deter- 
minations. The  substantial  form  determines  this 
unformed  and  potential  fundament,  and  fixes  the 
being  altogether  in  its  individuality  and  in  its  spe- 
cific mode  of  existence.  Each  man,  each  lion,  each 
oak,  each  chemical  individual,  possesses  its  form; 
that  is,  its  principle  of  proper  perfection.  And 
the  principle  of  perfection,  or  of  the  form  which 
is  immanent  in  the  oak,  is  not  reducible  to  that 
which  belongs  to  the  man,  or  to  the  molecule  of 
hydrogen. 

All  that  belongs  to  the  perfection  of  a  being  (its 
existence,  its  unity,  its  activities)  is  more  closely 
related  to  the  form,  while  all  that  belongs  to  its 


206  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

imperfect  state  (its  indetermination)  is  more  close- 
ly related  to  the  matter, — and  especially  is  this  true 
of  the  quantitative  extension  of  corporeal  being. 
To  be  extended  in  space,  in  divisible  quantity,  is 
an  imperfection ;  and  no  really  distinct  beings  could 
exist,  were  it  not  for  the  unifying  function  of 
form  assembling  the  scattered  elements  of  extend- 
ed matter.  No  doctrine  really  better  explains  the 
mixture  of  perfection  and  imperfection,  of  good 
and  evil,  which  are  rooted  in  the  depths  of  all 
corporeal  being. 

Thus  the  corporeal  world  mounts  stage  by  stage 
from  one  species  to  another,  nature  passes  from  one 
step  to  another,  from  one  species  to  another,  fol- 
lowing a  certain  definite  order.  Nature  changes 
water  into  hydrogen  and  oxygen,  but  it  does  not 
change  a  pebble  into  a  lion ;  nor  can  one  make  a  saw 
out  of  wool.  It  evolves  bodies  according  to  affini- 
ties and  successive  progressions,  the  deciphering  of 
which  is  the  mission  of  the  particular  sciences,  which 
we  can  know  only  by  patient  observation.  If  there 
are  any  saltations  in  nature,  they  are  never  capri- 
cious. In  every  corporeal  substance,  at  every  stage 
and  at  every  instant,  the  germs  of  the  substantial 
states  are  found  which  are  to  be  born  out  of  it. 
This  is  the  meaning  of  the  formula  repeated  by  the 
scholastics,  "that  primary  matter  contains  poten- 
tially, or  in  promise,  the  series  of  forms  in  which  it 
must  dress  and  redress  itself,  in  the  course  of  its 
becoming."     To  ask,  as  some  do,  where  the  forms 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  207 

are  before  their  appearance  and  after  their  disap- 
pearance, is  to  reveal  a  complete  misunderstanding 
of  the  scholastic  system.  One  has  no  right  to  re- 
quire of  a  doctrine  a  solution  which  it  does  not  pre- 
tend to  give.  We  simply  know,  by  reasoning,  that 
there  must  be  matter  and  form, — just  as  we  know 
that  there  must  be  substances  and  accidents.  In 
their  explanation  of  facts,  the  scholastics  taught 
that  a  given  thing  must  be ;  but  they  did  not  always 
teach  what  that  thing  is. 

This  doctrine  represents  a  definitely  teleological 
interpretation  of  the  universe.  For,  the  successive 
stages  of  change  in  each  of  the  becoming  sub- 
stances, and  the  recurrence  of  the  same  transfor- 
mations in  the  corporeal  world,  require  the  inclina- 
tion on  the  part  of  each  being  to  follow  a  definite 
order  in  its  activity.^"  Such  inclination  in  each  sub- 
stance is  immanent  finality. 

To  sum  up.  Two  kinds  of  change  suffice  to  ex- 
plain the  corporeal  world.  First  the  becoming  of 
constituted  substance ;  thus,  an  oak  is  in  process  of 
becoming,  in  its  activities,  its  quantity,  its  qualities, 
its  relations,  but  it  retains  the  same  substance. 
Second,  a  change  of  one  substance  into  another  (or 
into  many  other  substances) ;  such  as  the  change 
of  an  oak  into  a  collection  of  chemical  bodies,  when, 
under  external  influences,  the  disposition  of  the 

3»The  term  natura  is  used  to  signify  the  individual  substance  as 
far  as  it  possesses  such  definite  inclination. 


208  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

primary  matter  requires  a  new  substantial  becom- 
ing of  the  whole. 

V 

It  is  impossible  here  to  give  a  detailed  survey  of 
such  an  interpretation  of  the  corporeal  world.  Let 
us  merely  apply  this  conception  of  the  world  to 
the  famous  scholastic  problem  of  "individuation," 
and  show  how  all  of  these  doctrines  are  employed 
for  an  explanation  of  humanity. 

The  problem  of  individuation  (individuatio)  in 
the  scholastic  philosophy  has  a  peculiar  but  re- 
stricted significance.  The  problem  is:  How  can 
so  many  distinct  individualities  of  the  same  sub- 
stantial perfection,  and  therefore  of  the  same  kind, 
exist?  Why  are  there  millions  and  millions  of  oaks, 
and  not  only  one  oak,  one  forma  querci?  Why 
should  there  be  millions  and  millions  of  human  be- 
ings, and  not  only  one  man?  Why  myriads  of 
molecules  of  water,  and  not  only  one  molecule  of 
water?  Why  not  one  molecule  or  ion  or  electron  of 
each  kind?  If  this  were  in  fact  the  case,  the  world 
would  still  represent  a  scale  of  perfection,  differing 
degree  by  degree;  but  there  would  be  no  two  cor- 
poreal beings  of  the  same  kind.  One  thing  would 
differ  from  another,  as  the  number  three  differs 
from  the  number  four. 

The  monads  of  Leibnitz  realize  in  some  aspects 
such  a  conception  of  the  world.  But  the  thomistic 
solution  is  more  profound  and  lies  in  this  thesis: 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  209 

That  extended  matter,  materia  signata,  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  individuation.  In  other  words,  without  ex- 
tension, and  extended  matter,  there  would  be  no 
reason  why  several  individuals  of  the  same  kind 
should  exist. 

Indeed,  a  substantial  form  as  such,  is  foreign  to 
and  indifferent  to  reduplication ;  and,  as  long  as  one 
considers  form,  one  cannot  find  any  reason  why 
there  should  be  two  identical  forms,  why  one  form 
should  limit  itself,  instead  of  retaining  within  itself 
all  the  capacity  of  realization.  Forma  irr^ecepta  est 
illimitata.  But  the  question  takes  on  a  new  aspect 
when  this  form  must  unite  with  matter,  in  order  to 
exist,  and  so  take  on  extended  existence.  My  body 
has  the  limitation  of  extension,  and  therefore  there 
is  place  for  your  body  and  for  millions  of  bodies  be- 
sides yours  and  mine.  An  oak  has  a  limited  exten- 
sion in  space,  and  at  the  point  where  it  ceases  to  fill 
space  there  is  also  place  for  many  more.  And  the 
same  may  be  said  of  all  corporeal  beings  in  the  end- 
less species  within  the  cosmos. 

There  is  an  important  consequence,  which  fol- 
lows directly  from  this  philosophy.  If  there  exist 
some  limited  beings  which  are  not  corporeal  beings, 
and  therefore  are  pure  perfections,  pure  forms, 
(pure  Intelligences  for  instance),  then  no  redupli- 
cation is  possible  in  that  realm  of  being.  They  dif- 
fer from  one  another  as  the  oak-form  differs  from 
the  beech-form  or  the  hydrogen-form. 

This  last  consideration  explains  why  the  problem 


210  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

of  individuation  is  different  from  the  problem  of 
individuality.  Each  existing  being  is  an  individual- 
ity; and  therefore  a  pure  Intelligence,  if  existent, 
is  an  individuality.^  But  individuation  means  a 
special  restriction  of  individuality,  that  is  to  say  a 
reduplication  of  several  identical  forms  in  07ie 
group, — hence  called  specific  groups,  species. 

VI 

All  the  doctrines  which  we  have  sought  to  explain 
are  to  be  apphed  to  human  beings  or  human  per- 
sonalities. We  are  impenetrable  and  incommuni- 
cable substances,  or  personalities.  No  philosophy 
ever  insisted  more  than  did  the  scholastic  philos- 
ophy upon  this  independence,  and  upon  the  dignity 
and  value  of  human  life, — by  virtue  of  this  doctrine 
of  personality.  All  kinds  of  relations  exist  between 
men;  for  instance, — the  family  and  political  rela- 
tions. But,  as  we  shall  see,^  they  do  not  touch  di- 
rectly our  innermost  substance,  which  with  Leib- 
nitz we  may  call  "ferociously  independent." 

A  human  personality  is  composed  of  body  and 

4  This  theory  is  all  too  frequently  misunderstood.  Thus  Henry 
Adams  erroneously  writes  as  follows:  "Thomas  admitted  that  the 
angels  were  universals"  (Mont  St.  Michel  and  Chartres,  p.  364), 
This  is  of  course  a  misunderstanding;  incorporeal  beings  are  not 
deprived  of  individuality  because  they  are  without  matter.  Thomas 
Aquinas  seems  to  have  written  the  following  in  direct  contradiction: 
"Non  est  verum  quod  substantia  separata  non  sit  singularis  et  indi- 
viduum  aliquod;  alioquin  non  haberet  aliquam  operationem."  See 
his  De  unitate  intellectus  contra  Averroistas,  edit.  Parme,  1865,  vol. 
XVI,  p.  22L 

5  Ch.  X,  v. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  211 

soul,  and  the  most  inward  unity  of  man  results  from 
this  combination;  the  body  is  primary  matter, 
the  soul  is  substantial  form,  and  each  completes  and 
permeates  the  other.  Therefore,  our  soul  is  not  at 
all  in  an  unnatural  state,  when  united  to  our  body. 
The  soul  is  not  to  be  compared,  as  does  Plato  in 
the  Republic,  to  the  sea-god  Glaucus,  as  impossible 
to  recognize  under  the  grimy  accretions  of  the  sea- 
shells  and  creeping  things.  On  the  contrary  the 
union  of  soul  and  body  is  such  that  the  former  re- 
quires aid  from  the  latter  in  all  her  activities. 

The  becoming  of  human  beings,  and  their  indi- 
viduation in  mankind,  must  also  be  explained  by 
the  doctrines  already  exposited.  The  generation  of 
a  child  is  the  becoming  of  a  new  substance;  but  it 
includes  several  stages  of  a  specific  kind,  each  more 
perfect  than  the  preceding.  The  soul  is  united  to 
the  embryo  only  when  the  dispositions  of  the  new 
organism  are  sufficiently  perfect  to  require  union 
with  a  human  soul.  Thus,  in  the  scholastic  phi- 
losophy, it  is  really  the  human  body,  as  a  product 
of  human  generation,  which  is  the  principle  of  indi- 
viduation; it  is  indeed  the  precise  reason  why  such 
and  such  a  soul,  with  its  greater  or  lesser 
treasure  of  potentialities,  is  united  to  such  and  such 
a  body.  And  although  the  spiritual  and  immortal 
soul  is  not  a  product  of  generation,  nevertheless 
the  parents  as  givers  of  the  body  to  the  child  assume 
the  responsibility  of  fixing  the  potentialities  of  the 
whole  being.     The  soul  may  be  compared  to  the 


212  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

wine  which  varies  in  quantity  according  to  the  size 
of  the  cup. 

There  is,  however,  one  very  important  difference 
between  the  human  soul  and  the  form  of  other  be- 
ings in  the  corporeal  world.  For  reasons  which 
we  cannot  develop  here,  founded  especially  upon 
the  superiority  of  human  knowledge,  the  human 
soul  is  of  a  spiritual  nature,  that  is,  it  is  superior  to 
corporeal  things  and  therefore  immortal.  Accord- 
ingly, a  human  soul,  although  it  constitutes  a  whole 
with  the  body,  is  not  the  result  of  the  chemical, 
physical,  and  biological  activities  which  explain  or- 
ganic generation.  Aristotle  had  said  that  the  in- 
tellect came  from  without  (OvpaOev) ,  Thomas  adds: 
the  soul  is  created  by  God. 

VII 

We  shall  now  consider,  in  conclusion,  the  place 
given  to  the  idea  of  God  in  the  scholastic  meta- 
physics. Their  natural  theology,  or  theodicy,  is 
closely  connected  with  their  conception  of  the  world. 
It  is  drawn  from  the  theory  of  change,  which  has 
been  explained  above.  It  is  intimately  connected 
with  their  whole  idea  of  change, — but  especially 
with  the  doctrine  of  efficient  causality. 

Change,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  passage  from 
one  state  to  another,  a  sort  of  oscillation  by  which 
the  real  in  potency  becomes  the  real  actually,  and 
so  obtains  a  new  perfection.  Now  the  principle  of 
efficient  causality  says:     No  being  which  changes 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  213 

can  give  to  itself,  without  some  foreign  influence 
coming  from  without,  this  complement  of  reality, 
by  virtue  of  which  it  passes  from  one  state  into 
another.  Quidquid  movetur  ah  alio  movetur.  The 
principle  of  contradiction  requires  this;  and  the 
principle  of  contradiction,  according  to  which  a 
thing  cannot  in  the  same  aspect  both  be  and  not  be. 
is  a  law  of  mental  life,  as  well  as  a  law  of  reality. 
For,  if  a  thing  could  change  its  own  state  (whether 
substantial  or  accidental)  unaided  from  without,  it 
would  possess  before  acquiring, — it  would  alreadj^ 
be  what  is  not  yet.  This  is  of  course  absurd.  The 
water  is  in  potency  of  changing  into  oxygen;  but 
without  the  electric  current, — without  the  interven- 
tion of  something  else — the  water  could  not,  by  it- 
self, give  to  itself  new  determinations.  This  other 
thing  by  which  water  changes  into  oxygen  and 
hydrogen  is  called  the  efficient  cause. 

However,  this  active  cause  is  itself  carried  into 
the  nexus  of  becoming.  The  electrical  energy  could 
not  appear  without  undergoing,  in  its  turn,  the 
action  of  other  efficient  causes.  The  whole  process 
expands,  very  much  as  when  a  stone  is  thrown  into 
still  water  the  waves  spread  out  from  the  centre, 
each  acting  upon  the  next  in  succession.  Moreover, 
the  process  becomes  complicated,  for  every  action 
of  a  being  A  on  a  being  B  is  doubled  by  a  reaction 
of  B  on  A.  Nature  is  an  inextricable  tissue  of  effi- 
cient causes,  of  becomings,  of  passages  from  po- 


214  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

tency  to  act.  Newton's  law  of  gravitation,  the  law 
of  the  equilibrium  of  forces,  the  law  of  the  conser- 
vation of  energy, — ^these  are  all  so  many  formulas 
which  state  in  precise  form  the  influence  of  one  be- 
ing upon  another. 

But, — and  there  is  of  course  a  but — we  cannot 
continue  the  process  to  infinity.  For,  in  that  case, 
change  would  be  an  illusion,  and  this  would  involve 
denying  the  very  evidence  itself.  The  initial 
motion  demands  a  starting  point,  an  original  im- 
petus. This  absolute  beginning  is  possible  only 
on  the  condition  that  a  Being  exists  who  is  be^^ond 
all  change, — in  whom  nothing  can  become,  and 
who  is  therefore  immutable.  That  being  is  God. 
Now,  God  cannot  set  in  motion  the  series  of 
changes,  constituted  of  act  and  potency,  except  by 
an  impulse  which  leaves  free  and  undisturbed  His 
own  impassibility.  For,  however  slight  the  modi- 
fication which  one  supposes  this  act  (of  changing 
others)  to  cause  in  Him,  it  would  still  be  a  change, 
and  hence  something  new  and  requiring  explana- 
tion afresh, — by  recourse  to  the  intervention  of  a 
still  higher  being.  Thus  the  process  would  be  end- 
less, unless  God  is  the  "prime  mover  unmoved." 

Let  us  suppose  that  one  decides  to  build  a  house, 
and  that  one  wants  it  to  be  supported  solidly.  To 
this  end  he  lays  deep  the  foundations  which  must 
support  the  building.  Deep  he  digs,  and  still 
deeper,  and  ever  deeper,  in  order  to  obtain  a  base 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  215 

of  absolute  fixity.  But  he  must  finally  call  a  halt 
in  this  work  of  excavation,  under  penalty  of  not 
ever  beginning  the  work  of  building.  Thus  we 
must  conclude,  from  the  very  existence  of  the  house, 
that  the  builder  did  in  fact  halt  at  some  point  in 
the  earth,  there  to  set  his  first  stone. 

Just  so  with  the  scholastic  argument  which  we 
are  considering.  Change  exists  as  a  fact  even  as 
the  house  exists  as  a  fact.  The  fact  is  there;  it 
stares  us  in  the  face;  it  fills  the  universe.  If  there 
were  not  a  halting  place  in  the  chain  of  efficient 
causation,  the  change  itself  could  not  exist.  One 
is  in  no  position  to  choose  whether  the  world  shall 
evolve  or  not;  for  evolution  is  the  law  of  the  uni- 
verse itself.  To  conceive  that  one  may  make  an 
endless  regressus  in  the  causal  nexus,  would  be  like 
conceiving  that  he  might  suspend  a  weight  to  the 
one  end  of  a  chain  whose  other  end  requires  the 
ceaseless  adding  of  link  upon  link,  to  lengthen  out 
the  chain  to  infinity! 

It  all  comes  then  to  this:  if  any  fact  is  real,  the 
totality  of  things,  without  which  the  reality  of  that 
fact  would  be  compromised,  is  no  less  real.  It  fol- 
lows, therefore,  that  scholastic  philosophy  dem- 
onstrates God's  existence  by  making  His  existence 
a  necessary  condition  of  the  explanation  of  reality. 
Accordingly,  from  the  standpoint  of  metaphysics. 
He  exists  only  for  the  world.  Hence  God  is  not, 
as  one  might  suppose,  a  further  mystery  requiring 


216  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

explanation,  in  addition  to  the  general  mystery  of 
the  world.  The  scholastic  argument  for  the  exis- 
tence of  God  has  just  the  value  of  the  principles  of 
contradiction  and  of  efficient  causation.  The  first 
is  a  point  of  support;  the  second  is  a  lever  which 
thought  employs  to  lift  the  things  which  change  to 
the  plane  of  the  Being  who  changes  not.  Remove 
the  point  of  support  or  destroy  the  lever,  and 
thought  falls  impotent  before  the  world's  enigma. 

God,  adds  Thomas  Aquinas,  having  in  Himself 
no  potentiality,  is  infinitude,  absolute  perfection; 
and  at  this  point  his  mind  is  suddenly  lifted  and 
borne  upwards,  and  it  attains  to  the  most  penetrat- 
ing insight  concerning  divinity.  In  order  to  bring 
this  home  to  our  full  realization,  I  shall  avail  my- 
self of  a  simile, — although  in  such  matters  com- 
parison is  inadequate. 

Imagine  a  series  of  vessels,  with  different  capa- 
cities, which  are  to  be  filled  with  water;  let  there  be 
tiny  vessels,  and  vessels  that  will  contain  gallons, 
and  great  receptacles  which  are  to  serve  as  reser- 
voirs. Clearly  the  volume  of  water,  which  may  be 
stored  in  each  vessel,  must  be  limited  by  the  capa- 
city of  the  vessel  itself.  Once  a  vessel  is  filled,  not 
a  drop  can  be  added  to  its  content;  were  the  very 
ocean  itself  to  flow  over  it,  the  contents  of  the  ves- 
sel would  not  increase. 

Now  eocistence  in  a  finite  being  may  be  likened  to 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  217 

the  water,  in  our  simile ;  for  existence  too  is  limited 
by  the  capacity  of  every  recipient  being.  This  ca- 
pacity is  the  sum  total  of  the  potentialities  which 
from  moment  to  moment  become  actual  reali- 
ties, by  being  invested  with  existence.  That  oak 
of -the  forest  which  is  invested  with  the  most  beauti- 
ful qualities  of  its  species,  and  with  the  most  per- 
fect vital  forces ;  that  man  of  genius  who  is  endowed 
with  the  most  precious  gifts  of  mind  and  body, — 
these  possess  the  maximum  of  eooisteyice  that  can 
possibly  be  found  in  the  species  of  oak  and  of  man. 
But,  be  it  remembered,  the  capacity  for  existence 
in  each  of  these  is  limited  and  circumscribed  by  the 
very  fact  of  the  apportioned  potentiality,  or  "es- 
sence." In  this  beautiful  conception  of  Thomas,  a 
vigorous  oak  has  a  larger  measure  of  existence  than 
a  stunted  one;  a  man  of  genius  possesses  existence 
in  a  larger  sense  than  a  man  of  inferior  mind, — 
because  the  great  man  and  the  vigorous  oak  possess 
a  larger  measure  of  powers  and  activities,  and  be- 
cause these  powers  and  activities  exist.  But,  once 
more,  there  is  a  limit  even  to  their  existence. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  return  to  our  simile,  let  us 
picture  to  ourselves  an  existence  indefinitely  uncir- 
cumscribed,  say  the  ocean,  without  shore  to  confine 
or  to  limit  it.  Such  existence,  pure  and  unqualified, 
is  that  of  God.  God  is  existence ;  He  is  nothing  but 
the  plentitude  of  existence ;  He  is  the  one  who  is, — 
Ego  sum  qui  sum — whose  very  essence  is  His  ex- 


218  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

istence.  All  other  beings  receive  some  degree  of 
existence, — the  degree  increasing  in  measure  with 
their  increasing  capacity.  But  they  receive,  in  each 
instance,  this  degree  of  existence  from  God.  The 
created  agents,  or  secondary  causes,  determine  the 
capacity  of  the  vessel,  and  the  size  varies  unceas- 
ingly; God  alone  fills  it  to  the  full  capacity  of  ex- 
istence. 

It  is  God  who  is  the  direct  dispenser  of  exis- 
tence, from  that  of  pure  spirits  to  that  of  atoms. 
It  is  He  who  sustains  everything,  that  is  anything, 
short  of  pure  nothing.  It  is  He  who  directs  the 
world  toward  the  goal,  which  is  known  to  Him 
alone;  and  presumptuous,  nay  rash,  would  it  be 
for  men  to  seek  to  penetrate  the  mystery.  In  short, 
God  is  existence ;  other  beings  receive  existence — an 
existence  distinct  from  His  own — just  in  propor- 
tion as  they  have  the  power  to  receive  it.  No  one 
can  say  what  Infinity  implies.  "The  highest  knowl- 
edge which  we  can  have  of  God  in  this  life,"  writes 
Thomas  Aquinas,  "is  to  know  that  He  is  above  all 
that  we  can  think  concerning  Him."^ 

Scholastic  metaphysics  thus  finds  its  culmina- 
tions in  theodic3^  Starting  out  from  the  study  of 
the  changing  corporeal  world,  it  rises  to  the  Being 
without  whom  change  would  be  inexplicable.  But 
its  main  object  is  none  the  less  a  study  of  the  cor- 
poreal beings  which  surround  us.    Hence  one  may 

tt  De  Veritate,  q.  II,  art.  3. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


219 


say  that  it  is  based  on  observation  and  anchored  to 
the  very  rock  of  reahty/ 


7  The   following   schema   may   aid   in   clarifying   the   metaphysical 
doctrines  and  the  relations  explained  in  this  chapter: 

{Prime  matter  (materia  prima) 
Substantial  form   (forma  sub- 
stantialis) 
Qualities,  for  instance:  shape, 

power,  habit  (habitus) 
Quantity 
Action 
Passion 
Relation 
Time 
Space 

Posture  (se  habere) 
tate 


Essence 
(essentia) 


Substance 
(substantia) 


Accidents 
(accidentia) 


Existence 
(esse) 


IS 


CHAPTER  TEN 


Individualism  and  Social  Industry 

i.  Social  theory  the  last  addition  to  scholastic  philosophy, 
ii.  Fundamental  principle:  the  group  exists  for  its  members, 
and  not  conversely,  iii.  Ethical  foundation  of  this  principle, 
iv.  The  idea  of  the  group  in  the  teaching  of  canonists  and 
jurists.  V.  Metaphysical  basis:  the  group  not  an  entity  out- 
side of  its  members,  vi.  Comparison  of  the  group  with  the 
human  body.     vii.  Conclusion. 


Social  philosophy  is  the  last  addition  to  the 
edifice  which  the  scholastic  thinkers  reared.  In 
point  of  fact,  it  is  unhistorical  to  speak  of  a  social 
philosophy  before  1260,  the  year  in  which  William 
of  Moerbeke's  translation  of  the  Politics  of  Aris- 
totle came  into  circulation  among  scholars.  Prior 
to  that  time  we  find,  to  be  sure,  discussions  on  iso- 
lated questions,  such  as  natural  law  or  the  divine 
origin  and  the  moral  function  of  political  authority. 
But  these  questions  were  not  combined  in  any  phil- 
osophical system, — although  they  received  remark- 
able elaboration  in  the  works  of  Manegold  of  Lau- 
tenbach  and  of  John  of  Salisbury  especially  (in  his 
Polycraticus,  1159). 

However,   in   saying  that   social   philosophy   is 

220 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  221 

one  of  the  last  additions  to  the  scholastic  edifice, 
some  explanation  is  necessary,  in  order  to  make 
valid  this  temporal  comparison.  A  philosophy  does 
not  grow  as  a  house,  to  which  a  wing  is  added  from 
time  to  time,  nor  as  a  landed  estate  to  which  one 
adds  gradually  adjoining  fields.  For,  new  doc- 
trines that  are  introduced  in  philosophy  must  not 
destroy  those  which  have  been  already  adopted;  on 
the  contrary,  they  must  be  suited  to  form  with  the 
doctrines  adopted  a  coherent  whole,  and  to  this  end 
each  and  every  addition  must  be  carefully  re- 
thought. 

The  systematic  character  of  scholastic  social 
philosophy  is  striking  in  the  works  of  Thomas 
Aquinas.  He  is  the  first  to  succeed  in  constructing, 
out  of  the  new  material,  a  doctrine  in  which  every- 
thing holds  together,  and  which  is  entirely  impreg- 
nated with  the  social  mentality  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  This  doctrine  appears  in  his  Summa  The- 
ologica  and  in  his  commentary  on  the  Politics  of 
Aristotle;  we  know  that  he  also  intended  to  write 
a  treatise  De  Regimine  Principum,  for  the  educa- 
tion of  a  ruling  prince,  Hugh  II  of  Lusignan,  king 
of  Cyprus.^     Other  philosophers  followed  his  ex- 

iSee  Summa  Theol,  la  2ae,  qq.  XCIII-CV.  Thomas  himself  com- 
mentated only  Books  I  and  II  and  III  (part  only  chs.  1-6)  of  Aris- 
totle's Politics.  This  is  now  clear  from  an  ancient  MS  cited  by 
Grabmann  (See  "Welchen  Teil  der  Aristotelischen  Politik  hat  der 
hi.  Thomas  selbst  Kommentirt?"  in  Philos.  Jahrbuch,  1915,  pp. 
373-5).  As  for  the  De  Regimine  Principum,  only  Book  I  and  part 
of  Book  II  (chs.  1-4)  were  written  by  Thomas.    The  authenticity  of 


222  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

ample  and  his  teachings;  they  addressed  their 
works  to  princes  and  kings,  in  order  to  enhghten 
them  regarding  both  their  rights  and  their  duties. 
Thus,  for  instance,  the  Franciscan  Gilbert  of 
Tournai  wrote,  at  the  request  of  Louis  IX  of 
France,  a  treatise  Eruditio  Regum  et  Principum, 
which  has  been  recently  published;^  and  Gilles  of 
Rome  composed  a  similar  work  for  the  king's  son. 


II 

As  preliminary  to  a  discussion  of  the  more  im- 
portant questions  with  which  scholastic  social 
philosophy  concerned  itself — a  subject  which  we 
reserve  for  the  next  chapter — I  wish  here  to  ex- 
amine its  basic  principle.  This  principle  consti- 
tutes the  broad  foundation  of  political  and  so- 
cial theory,  and  upon  it  the  superstructure  of  the 
state  was  laid,  very  much  as  the  stories  of  a  house 
are  made  to  rest  upon  the  main  floor.  The  principle 
may  be  briefly  stated  as  follows:  The  State  eccists 
for  the  good  of  the  citizen,  or  obversely,  it  is  not  the 

even  so  much  has  been  doubted  by  J.  A.  Endres  ("De  regimine  prin- 
cipum des  hi.  Thomas  von  Aquin,"  in  Baeumker's  Beitrdge,  Fest- 
schrift, 1913,  pp.  361-267).  However,  his  reasoning  is  not  at  all  con- 
clusive; and  the  oldest  and  best  catalogues  attribute  this  portion  to 
Thomas  himself.  It  is  my  own  opinion  that  Thomas  was  the  author 
of  the  beginning  of  the  work  (Bks.  I  and  II,  chs.  1-4),  and  that  the 
remainder  was  inspired  by  his  doctrine. 

2  A.  De  Poorter, — in  the  series :  Les  Philosophes  Beiges,  collection 
de  textes  et  d'Hudes,  vol.  IX,  Louvain,  19r4.. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  2^3 

citizen  who  is  for  the  good  of  the  state.  This  state- 
ment is  susceptible  of  enlargement.  Any  group 
whatever, — be  it  family,  village,  city,  province, 
kingdom,  empire,  abbey,  parish  church,  bishopric, 
or  even  the  Catholic  Church — justifies  itself  in  the 
good  which  it  accomplishes  for  its  members.  In 
other  words,  the  members  do  not  exist  for  the  good 
of  the  group.  The  question  is  the  more  interesting 
because  the  professors  of  Roman  law  at  Bologne 
and  the  other  jurists,  who  argued  on  behalf  of  the 
sovereigns  (the  Hohenstaufen,  and  the  kings  of 
England  and  France),  and  the  canonists,  follow- 
ing the  Decretum  of  Gratian,  had  touched  upon 
these  delicate  questions;  but  the  philosophers  at- 
tained to  a  clearness  and  precision  which  had  been 
denied  to  experts  in  law  on  the  same  questions. 

In  very  fact,  this  principle — that  the  state  exists 
only  for  the  good  of  the  citizen,  or  obversely,  that 
it  is  not  the  citizen  who  exists  for  the  good  of  the 
state — is  closely  connected  with  the  whole  scholastic 
system.  While  it  is  a  foundation  for  the  doctrine  of 
the  state,  this  principle  itself  rests  upon  an  ethical 
ground.  In  its  turn,  this  ethical  ground  rests  upon 
the  deeper  lying  basis  of  metaphysical  doctrine. 
Thus,  social  philosophy  in  reality  rests  upon  a 
twofold  basis,  the  ethical  and  the  metaphysical. 
Let  us  consider  briefly  the  part  played  by  each  of 
these  bases. 


224  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

III 

First,  the  ethical  foundations  of  the  principle. 
Why  should  the  group,  in  particular  the  state,  be 
subordinated  to  the  good  of  the  citizens?  Is  not 
the  citizen  an  instrument  for  the  good  of  the  state? 
Scholastic  ethics  replies:  because  every  human  be- 
ing has  a  certain  sacred  value,  an  inviolable  indi- 
viduality, and  as  such  he  has  a  personal  destiny,  a 
happiness,  which  the  state  must  aid  him  to  realize. 
Let  us  see  more  fully  what  this  means. 

Each  man  seeks  in  his  life  to  attain  some  end. 
Our  activities  would  lack  even  ordinary  meaning,  if 
they  did  not  reach  forward  to  a  goal,  if  they  did 
not  aim — consciously  or  unconsciously — to  realize 
the  good,  that  is  to  say  the  perfection  of  the  indi- 
vidual who  is  the  source  of  the  activities  involved. 
This  is  true  not  only  for  man,  but  for  all  created 
things.  Human  finality  is  simply  an  application  of 
universal  finality;  and  therefore  the  scholastics  re- 
peat with  Aristotle:  "That  is  good  which  each 
thing  seeks"  {Bonum  est  quod  omnia  apjjetunt) , 
Man's  possession  of  his  good  means  human  happi- 
ness. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  men  seek  the  good  in  the 
most  diverse  objects,  and  they  frequently  deceive 
themselves;  but  that  is  only  a  question  of  applica- 
tion, which  does  not  affect  the  main  thesis.  Even 
the  man  who  hangs  himself  is  yielding  to  inclina- 
tions which  he  believes  will  issue  in  his  benefit.  But 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  225 

this  illustration  only  shows  that  one  should  pursue 
one's  good  according  to  rational  judgments,  and 
follow  where  they  lead  him,  without  letting  himself 
be  deceived  by  appearances.  Man,  indeed,  is  dis- 
tinguished from  the  stone  which  falls,  or  from  the 
wild  beast  which  follows  its  instincts,  by  the  fact 
that  he  has  the  privilege  of  reflecting  on  his  ways 
and  choosing  them  freely ;  he  has  the  power  of  mis- 
taken choice.  Man's  counsels  lie  in  his  own  hands. 
The  philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  century  have  no 
difficulty  in  proving,  that  neither  riches  nor  honour, 
nor  glory,  nor  power,  nor  sensual  indulgence  can 
satisfy  the  demands  of  the  good,  the  summum  ho- 
num  for  men;  there  he  is  free  to  seek  or  not  to 
seek  them  as  the  chief  end  of  life.^ 

Moreover,  every  destiny  is  necessarily  personal; 
the  good  is  my  good.  If,  for  example,  I  make  it 
to  consist  in  pleasure,  it  is  quite  evident  that  the 
pleasure  is  my  pleasure.  A  fortiori  must  destiny 
be  personal  for  the  scholastic  ethics  which  maintains 
that  happiness  results  from  the  employment  of  that 
which  is  the  noblest  and  the  highest  in  human  life, — 
namely,  knowledge  and  love.  Nothing  is  more  per- 
sonal than  knowing  and  loving.  Happiness  is  so 
personal  a  matter,  that  the  good  of  another  only 
enters  into  it  incidentally,  and  not  essentially.  It 
takes  a  noble  soul  to  include  the  destinies  of  others 
within  the  domain  of  his  own  preoccupations. 

Now,  the  individual  left  quite  to  himself,  as  a 

3  See  above,  p.  186. 


226  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

solitary  being,  is  not  sufficient  to  attain  to  his  proper 
end.  He  will  find  himself  deprived  of  material 
means,  of  intellectual  directions,  of  moral  support. 
This  impotence  of  the  solitary  individual,  says 
Thomas  Aquinas,  is  the  sole  reason  for  the  ex- 
istence of  society.  "Man  is  called  by  nature"  he 
writes*  "to  live  in  society;  for  he  needs  many  things 
which  are  necessary  to  his  life,  and  which  by  him- 
self he  cannot  procure  for  himself.  Whence  it  fol- 
lows that  man  naturally  becomes  part  of  a  group 
{pars  multitudinis) ,  to  procure  him  the  means  of 
living  well.  He  needs  this  assistance  for  two  rea- 
sons. First,  in  order  that  he  may  obtain  the  ele- 
mentary necessities  of  life;  this  he  does  in  the  do- 
mestic circle  of  which  he  is  a  part.  Every  man  re- 
ceives from  his  parents  life  and  nourishment  and 
education;  and  the  reciprocal  aid  of  the  family 
members  facilitates  the  mutual  provision  of  the  ne- 
cessities of  life.  But  there  is  a  second  reason  why 
the  individual  is  helped  by  the  group,  of  which  he 
is  a  part,  and  in  which  alone  he  finds  his  adequate 
well  being.  And  this  is,  that  he  may  not  only  live 
but  live  the  good  life, — which  is  enabled  by  the  op- 
portunities of  social  intercourse.  Thus  civil  society 
aids  the  individual  in  obtaining  the  material  neces- 
sities, by  uniting  in  the  same  city  a  great  number 
of  crafts,  which  could  not  be  so  united  in  the  same 
family.  And  civil  society  also  assists  him  in  the 
moral  life." 

^Comment  in  Ethic.  Nicom.,  lib.  I. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  227 

The  scholastic  philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury unanimously  agree  with  Aristotle  and  Augus- 
tine that  it  is  a  natural  necessity  for  man  to  live  in 
society,  naturalis  necessitas.  This  social  life  in- 
volves degrees.  There  are  groups,  more  or  less  ex- 
tensive, which  are  logically  and  chronologically  an- 
terior to  the  state.  Man  is  of  necessity  born  into  a 
family  {doinus) ,  Several  families  grouped  under 
a  chief  constitute  a  village— community,  vicus, 
whose  raison  d'etre,  says  Dante,^  is  to  facilitate  an 
exchange  of  services  between  men  and  things.  The 
city  (cititas),  continues  Dante,  is  a  wider  organi- 
zation, which  allows  one  to  live  with  moral  and  ma- 
terial sufficiency,  bene  sufficienterque  vivere.  But, 
whereas  Aristotle  had  stopped  with  the  city, 
Thomas  considers  (in  the  De  Regimine  Principum) 
a  wider  group,  the  province, — which  corresponds  to 
Dante's  kingdom  (regnum),  Perhays  we  may  see 
in  the  province  those  large  feudal  fiefs,  which  were 
important  units,  such  as  the  Duchy  of  Normandy 
or  the  Duchy  of  Brabant,  with  which  Thomas  was 
actually  acquainted.  As  regards  states,  some  were 
growing  up  under  his  very  eyes,  notably  in  Italy, 
where  the  princes  of  the  house  of  Anjou  were  gov- 
erning the  Two  Sicilies,  while  the  main  European 
states,  France,  England,  Spain,  and  Germany  were 
taking  on  their  various  characteristic  features.  A 
kingdom  {regnum  particulare) ,  writes  Dante,  pro- 
vides the  same  advantages  as  the  city,  but  gives  a 

5  De  Monarchia,  lib.  I. 


228  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

greater  feeling  of  security,  cum  majori  fiducia  suae 
tranquilitatis.  In  this  Dante  repeats  the  thomistic 
thought  that  the  kingdom,  better  than  the  city,  re- 
sponds to  the  needs  of  war,  when  it  is  attacked  by 
enemies.® 

Now,  since  the  group  exists  only  for  the  benefit 
of  its  individuals,  the  good  of  the  group  will  not  be 
of  any  other  kind  than  that  of  the  individuals. 
Thus  Thomas  says:  "The  end  of  the  group  is 
necessarily  the  end  of  each  individual  who  com- 
poses the  group," — oportet  eundem  jinem  esse  mul- 
titudinis  humanae  qui  est  hominis  uniusJ  And 
Dante,  in  a  similar  vein,  writes:  "Citizens  are  not 
for  consuls  or  kings,  but  kings  and  consuls  are  for 
citizens," — non  enim  cives  propter  consules  nee 
gens  propter  regem,  sed  e  converso.^  The  group 
would  be  an  absurdity,  if  the  roles  were  reversed, 
and  the  state  or  any  other  group  should  pursue  a 
course,  which  no  longer  coincided  with  the  happi- 
ness of  each  of  its  subjects;  and  if  the  individual  be 
treated  as  a  worn-out  machine,  which  one  scraps 
when  it  has  become  useless. 

This  conception  is  at  once  new  and  mediaeval. 
For,  while  the  city  or  the  state  appears  in  Aristotle 
as  an  end  in  itself,  to  which  the  individuals  are  sub- 
ordinated, the  scholastic  philosophy,  on  the  con- 
trary, conceived  of  the  states  as  subordinated  to  the 

6  De  Regimine  Principum,  lib.  I,  cap.  1.     De  Monarchia,  lib.  I. 

7  De  Regimine  Principum,  lib.  I,  cap.  14. 
^  De  Monarchia,  lib.  I. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  229 

good  of  the  individuals.  For  Aristotle  the  prime 
duty  is  to  be  a  good  citizen,  and  to  increase  one's 
civic  virtue.  But  for  the  scholastic  philosopher  the 
prime  duty  is  to  give  to  life  a  human  value,  to  be  a 
good  man,  and  the  state  should  help  each  of  its 
members  to  become  such. 

It  follows  from  this  teaching  that  as  against  the 
state  the  individual  should  hold  himself  erect,  con- 
scious of  his  crown  of  rights,  which  the  state  can- 
not infringe  upon,  because  their  validity  is  derived 
from  the  worth  of  personality  itself.  These  are 
"the  rights  of  man."  Their  foundation  is  the  law 
of  nature,  that  is  to  say,  the  essence  of  man  and  the 
eternal  law, — the  eternal  relations  which  regulate 
the  order  of  beings  in  conformity  with  the  decrees 
of  uncreated  wisdom.  These  are  the  right  to  pre- 
serve his  life,  the  right  to  marry  and  to  rear  chil- 
dren, the  right  to  develop  his  intellect,  the  right  to 
be  instructed,  the  right  to  truth,  the  right  to  live  in 
society.  These  are  some  of  the  prerogatives  of  the 
individual  which  appear  in  the  thirteenth  century 
declaration  of  the  rights  of  man.^ 

Thus,  scholastic  philosophy  justifies  from  an 
ethical  point  of  view  the  conception  of  the  worth  of 
the  individual,  as  against  the  central  power.  But 
we  see  at  once  how  it  also  conforms  to  the  feudal 
temperament.  For,  knight  and  baron  and  vassal 
and  citizen  had  all  been  consumed  for  two  centu- 
ries past  with  the  idea  of  living  each  his  own  life. 

9  Thomas  Aquinas,  Swmma  TheoL,  lagae,  q.  XCIV,  art.  2. 


230  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

IV 

But,  in  its  turn,  the  ethical  doctrine  rests  upon  a 
metaphysical  foundation.  Why,  indeed,  does  the 
human  person  possess  the  right  to  realize  his  happi- 
ness, of  which  no  state  can  deprive  him?  Meta- 
physics replies:  because  human  personality  alone 
is  a  genuine  substantial  reality.  On  the  other 
hand,  any  group  whatever,  the  state  included,  is 
not  a  real  being ;  it  is  simply  a  group  of  human  per- 
sons {multitudo  hominum) , 

This  doctrine  interested  the  jurists  and  the  can- 
onists as  much  as  it  did  the  philosophers.  Since  its 
nature  is  such  as  to  throw  light  upon  the  political 
mentality  of  the  period,  let  us  consider  briefly  the 
conceptions  of  the  jurists  and  theorists  in  civil  and 
canon  law.  This  will  be  a  helpful  preliminary  to 
dispose  of,  before  passing  to  the  conclusions  of  the 
philosophers. 

The  legalistic  theorists  simply  took  over  from 
Roman  law  the  concept  of  the  corporation  {uni- 
versitas)  and  applied  it, — as  civil  theorists  to  the 
state,  and  as  canonists  to  the  Church.  Now,  the 
Roman  corporation  (universitas)  is  nothing  but  an 
association  of  individuals.  To  be  sure,  it  is  the 
seat  of  private  rights,  and  it  can  possess  and  acquire 
property;  but,  as  Savigny  has  emphasized,  it  is  not 
a  real  person,  and  in  consequence  it  has  no  soul,  no 
intelligence,  no  will.  The  Roman  jurists  were  too 
realistic,  too  amenable  to  common  sense  logic,  to 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  231 

conceive  of  a  collective  soul, — a  reality  distinct 
from  the  individuals — in  these  associations,  whose 
purposes  were  plainly  commercial  and  industrial. 

Similarly,  the  parish  churches  and  the  monasteries 
and  the  universal  Church  had  not  been  regarded  by 
the  canonists  as  real  entities^  as  beings  distinct  from 
the  members  who  compose  them.  Innocent  IV, 
who  had  the  name  of  being  an  eminent  jurist,  is  the 
first  who  would  have  spoken  of  the  corporation  as 
a  "pei'sona  ficta'  a  fictitious  person — an  excellent 
formula,  which  is  not  found  in  the  Digest  of  Jus- 
tinian, but  which  expresses  admirably  the  thought 
of  the  thirteenth  century.  Gierke  calls  him  the 
"father  of  the  fictitious  person  theory. "^^  There- 
after the  corporation  is  definitely  no  thing-in-itself , 
no  living  organism,  in  the  real  sense  of  the  word, 
since  it  has  neither  intelligence  nor  will.  The  can- 
onists, indeed,  declare  that  it  cannot  commit  crime 
or  misdemeanour  of  any  kind;  hence  a  political 
group  as  such  need  not  fear  hell  or  wrath  to  come. 

Nor  do  the  mediaeval  lawyers  conceive  otherwise 
of  the  state-corporation.  In  the  same  manner  they 
explain  the  artificial  personality  of  the  kingdom  or 
of  the  empire.  The  state  {universitas)  is  the  col- 
lective mass  of  individual  men,  who  constitute  the 
populus;  and  its  functions, — says  the  author  of  a 

10  otto  von  Gierke,  Die  Staats-  und  Korporations-  lehre  des  Alter- 
tums  und  des  Mittelalters  und  ihre  Aufnahme  in  Deutschland,  Ber- 
lin, 1881,  p.  279,  n.  102:  "cum  collegium  in  causa  universitatis  fingor- 
tur  una  persona"  (Innocent  IV). 


232  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

treatise  De  Aequitate  which  is  ascribed  to  Irnerius, 
— is  to  care  for  the  individual  men  who  are  its 
members/^  Likewise,  the  society  of  states  is  con- 
sidered by  Dante  as  a  grouping  of  individuals,  a 
respublica  humana  rather  than  as  a  group  of  gov- 
ernments. The  universal  monarch  is  the  servant  of 
all,  minister  omnium,  precisely  as  the  Pope  is  the 
servant  of  the  servants  of  God.  He  wills  the  wel- 
fare of  each  man;  he  is  nearer  to  each  citizen  than 
is  any  particular  sovereign. ^^  And  in  the  four- 
teenth century  Baldus  writes:  ''Imperium  non 
habet  animum,  ergo  non  habet  velle  nee  nolle  quia 
animi  suntJ"^^ 

Does  this  conception  of  the  state  (as  being  no 
entity  outside  of  the  members  who  constitute  it) 
really  represent  a  failure"  of  the  mediaeval  jurists 
and  canonists?  Is  it  not  rather  the  triumph  of 
good  sense  and  healthy  thinking  of  men  who  were 
seeking  loyally  for  truth  and  not  for  originality? 
Personally  I  do  not  believe  that  the  state  is  a  real 
being,  a  real  substance  outside  of  its  citizens,  and 
I  agree  with  Paul  Bourget  in  one  of  his  latest  novels 
{Le  Sens  de  la  Mort) ,  when  he  places  in  the  mouth 

11  Irnerius,  De  Aequitate,  2:  universitas,  id  est  populus,  hoc  habet 
oflficium,  singulis  scilicet  hominibus  quasi  membris  providere.  Of. 
Carlyle,  op.  cit.,  vol.  II,  p.  57. 

12  De  Monarchia,  I.    Cf.  above,  ch.  V,  111. 

13  Cited  by  Gierke,  Political  Theories  of  the  Middle  Ages,  (English 
translation  by  Maitland),  Cambridge,  1900,  p.  70.  This  translation  is 
only  a  small  part  of  Gierke's  work  cited  above. 

14  Gierke,  Ibid. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  233 

of  Doctor  Marsal  these  suggestive  words:  To  die 
for  France  is  not  to  die  for  a  collective  entity,  but 
for  all  Frenchmen  present  and  to  come.  To  climb 
the  ladder  and  go  over  the  top,  is  to  mount  the 
scaffold.  They  did  it.  For  whom?  For  France. 
But  France  is  the  sum  total  of  all  those  who  are 
destined  to  be  Frenchmen.  It  is  our  very  selves, 
you  and  I, — we  Frenchmen,  I  repeat.^^ 


The  underlying  reason  for  this  doctrine, — that 
the  state  large  or  small  is  not  a  "thing-in-itself,"  an 
entity  distinct  from  the  citizens  who  compose  it — is 
furnished  by  the  scholastic  philosophy  itself,  and 
we  have  already  seen  what  it  is.  For  scholastic 
philosophy  the  world  is  pluralistic,  the  only  real 
beings  existing  are  individual  beings, — for  instance, 
such  and  such  oak,  such  and  such  bee,  such  and  such 
man.^*^  And  since  unity  follows  being  {ens  et  unum 
convertuntur) ,  individuals  alone  have  a  physical 
and  internal  unity.  A  forest  of  oaks,  a  hive  of 
bees,  a  team  of  horses,  a  steamboat,  a  house,  an 
army,  a  parish,  a  city,  a  state, — none  of  these  desig- 
nate real,  physical  beings ;  in  consequence  they  have 
not  the  unity  that  belongs  to  a  real  substance. 

15  Sortir  de  la  tranchee,  sur  I'echelle,  c'est  monter  a  Pechafaud. 
lis  y  montent.  Pour  qui?  Pour  la  France.  Mais  la  France,  c'est 
la  somme  des  destinees  frangaises.  C'est  nous,  je  vous  repete," 
p.  173,  edit.  1915,  Paris,  Plon. 

16  See  ch.  IX,  ii. 


234  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

In  what  then  does  this  unity  of  the  group  con- 
sist? The  metaphysics  of  Thomas  Aquinas  give 
us  light  on  this  subtle  question.  After  having 
shown  why  the  individual  must  become  a  member 
of  a  family  and  of  a  civic  community,  he  writes: 
"Now  we  ought  to  know  that  this  totality,  of  the 
civil  or  the  domestic  group,  possesses  only  the  unity 
of  {external)  order,  and  consequently  it  is  not  en- 
dowed with  the  unity  that  belongs  to  a  natural  sub- 
stance. This  is  the  reason  why  a  portion  of  this 
totality  can  carry  on  activities  which  are  not  the 
act  of  the  group.  A  soldier,  for  example,  carries 
out  actions  which  do  not  belong  to  the  army;  but 
such  actions  of  the  soldier  do  not  prevent  the  group 
from  carrying  on  its  activities, — activities  which 
do  not  belong  to  each  part  but  to  the  whole.  Thus, 
a  battle  is  the  activity  of  the  whole  army ;  the  tow- 
ing of  a  barge  is  the  activity  of  the  totality  of  the 
men  who  pull  on  the  rope."" 

There  is  then  a  profound  difference  between  the 

17  "Sciendum  est  autem  quod  hoc  totum,  quod  est  civilis  multitude 
vel  domesticia  familia,  habet  solam  unitatem  ordinis,  secundum  quam 
non  est  aliquid  simpliciter  unum.  Et  ideo  pars  ejus  totius  potest 
habere  operationem  quae  non  est  operatio  totius,  sicut  miles  in  exer- 
citu  habet  operationem  quae  non  est  totius  exercitus.  Habet  nihil- 
ominus  et  ipsum  totum  aliquam  operationem,  quae  non  est  propria 
alicujus  partium,  puta  conflictus  totius  exercitus.  Et  tractus  navis 
est  operatio  multitude  trahentium  navem."  In  Ethic.  Nicom.,  L.  I. 
I  understand  "unitas  ordinis"  to  mean  the  unity  resulting  from  a 
combination  of  independent  beings,  realizing  an  external  order,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  physical  unity  which  results  from  internal  order, 
in  a  being  where  there  is  a  plurality  of  elements. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  235 

unity  of  the  individual, — the  organic  and  internal 
''indivision'  {unu7n  simpliciter)  which  belongs  to 
the  human  person — and  the  external  unity  which 
is  the  outcome  of  social  grouping  among  a  certain 
number  of  individuals.  Internal  unity  introduces 
coherence  within  the  individual  substance,  so  that 
all  of  its  constituent  parts  or  elements  have  neither 
independent  value  nor  existence  of  their  own. 
Hence  there  is  a  contradiction  in  the  very  idea  of  a 
collective-person.  Either  the  members  who  are 
supposed  to  compose  such  a  collective  person,  re- 
main substantially  independent, — in  which  case 
there  is  no  one  person  but  a  collection  of  persons — 
or  they  are  dependent  of  the  whole,  and  then  each 
member  loses  his  individuality.  It  is  quite  different 
in  the  case  of  the  external  unity  that  appears  in  a 
group  of  persons,  since  this  unity  does  not  affect 
the  individuality  that  belongs  to  each  member. 

You  will  ask  then:  Is  the  family  or  the  state  a 
mere  nothing?  To  make  such  an  assertion  would 
be  to  overstate  the  doctrine.  For,  the  unity  of  the 
group,  of  which  Thomas  speaks,  is  functional  in 
character  and  rests  on  performing  in  common  cer- 
tain human  activities,  of  which  each  member  con- 
tributes his  share.  Such  activities  are  endowed  with 
reality,  but  a  reality  different  from  the  incommuni- 
cable and  inalienable  substantial  being  which  each 
member  preserves.  In  towing  a  barge,  the  muscu- 
lar activities  of  the  men  who  tow  are  directed  in 
common;  in  a  game  or  a  club  or  any  friendly  asso- 


236  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

ciation,  each  member  places  a  portion  of  his  activi- 
ties at  the  disposal  of  the  common  life, — and  in  all 
of  these  cases  withdrawal  is  always  possible. 

But  in  the  family  or  the  community,  on  the  con- 
trary, this  mutual  pooling  of  activities  is  imposed 
by  nature;  there  can  be  no  such  withdrawal,  for 
certain  basic  activities  of  the  individual  are  ab- 
sorbed by  the  community.  Indeed,  in  certain  crises, 
for  the  common  good  and  the  common  safety,  the 
family  or  the  state  can  demand  the  entire  activity 
of  its  members.  But  even  so,  the  man  who  gives  all 
his  activities  nevertheless  preserves  his  individual- 
ity. The  individual  man  never  surrenders  the 
sovereignty  of  his  own  personality. 

This  doctrine  could  not  have  been  stated  more 
clearly  than  it  was  by  Thomas  Aquinas  in  these 
fine  words:  "The  law  should  take  account  of  many 
things  as  to  persons,  as  to  affairs,  and  as  to  times. 
For,  the  community  of  the  state  is  composed  of 
many  persons,  and  its  good  is  procured  by  varied 
activities /'^^ 

Accordingly,  from  the  point  of  view  of  scholastic 
metaphysics,  there  is  no  difference  between  the 
imity  of  a  group  of  men  towing  a  barge  and  the 
unity  of  the  family  or  of  the  state  or  even  of  a  whole 

18  Bonum  autem  commune  constat  ex  multis,  et  ideo  oportet  quod 
lex  ad  multa  respiciat  et  secundum  personas  et  secundum  negotia 
et  secundum  tempora.  Constituitur  enim  communitas  civitatis  ex 
multis  personis  et  ejus  bonum  per  multiples  actiones  procuratur. 
Svmma  Theol,  la^ae,  q.  XCVI,  art.  1. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  237 

civilization.  The  only  question  of  difference  is  that 
which  attaches  to  the  excellence  of  the  activities 
displayed.  The  proper  functioning  of  the  state  de- 
pends upon  the  diversity  of  activities,  and  a  state 
becomes  more  perfect,  as  does  a  whole  civilization, 
in  -  proportion  as  these  activities  are  more  com- 
plete, more  varied,  and  more  intense.  The  bonum 
cominune,  the  commonwealth  which  the  state  has 
to  provide,  results  from  the  sum  total  of  activities 
performed  to  unite  and  to  harmonize. 

These  considerations  make  clear  how  one  can 
speak  at  the  same  time  of  the  unity  of  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  thirteenth  century  and  of  the  plu7^alism 
which  is  so  basic  in  their  thought.  The  unity  of  a 
civilization  is  the  result  of  common  aspirations, 
common  beliefs,  common  sentiments  both  moral 
and  artistic,  common  language,  common  organiza- 
tion of  life ;  and  such  a  uility  is  no  more  than  a  com- 
munity of  activities.  At  the  same  time,  unity  of 
substance,  or  physical  unity,  belongs  to  each  of  the 
numerous  personalities  which  are  the  agents  of  this 
civilization,  and  to  them  only.^^ 

19  Through  failure  to  perceive  this  distinction  between  the  unity 
of  order  and  the  physical  unity,  many  historians  deny  individualism 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  misconceive  that  fundamental  teaching  of 
thirteenth  century  metaphysics, — ''nihil  est  praeter  individuum." 
Thus,  struck  by  the  unitary  character  of  the  civilization,  Mr.  E.  Bar- 
ker writes:  "We  can  hardly  say  that  the  Middle  Ages  have  any  con- 
ception of  the  state.  The  notion  of  the  state  involves  plurality,  but 
plurality  is  ex  hypothesi  not  to  be  found."  See,  "Unity  in  the 
Middle   Ages,"   in   The    Unity   of   Western  Civilization,   p.    112,  ed. 


238  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

In  this  thomistic  and  scholastic  view,  the  group 
life  acquires  dynamic  meaning.  It  rests  upon  a 
sharing  of  activities  for  the  good  of  all.  Possessing 
all  a  similar  human  nature,  with  its  train  of  inalien- 
able rights,  the  individuals  present  the  greatest  di- 
versity in  their  talents,  their  faculties,  and  the  ac- 
tivities which  result  from  them.  Equal  in  huma7i 
nature^  men  are  unequal  in  capacity  for  action;^^ 
such  is  the  metaphysical  law  which  governs  the 
play  of  the  social  group,  in  all  of  its  degrees. 

VI 

After  this  precise  and  substantial  argument,  to 
which  the  whole  body  of  scholastic  philosophers  of 
the  thirteenth  century  subscribe,  it  is  easy  to  give 
just  value  to  a  certain  favourite  comparison  of  that 
age, — a  comparison  to  which  publicists,  canonists, 
legalists,  theologians,  and  even  poets,  frequently 
recur,  for  the  purpose  of  explaining  the  problem 
of  the  individual  in  relation  to  the  group.  It  is 
the  comparison  of  the  state  with  the  human  body. 
John  of  Salisbury  works  out  the  comparison  in  de- 
tail, and  he  likens  each  member  of  the  human  body 

Marvin,  Oxford,  1915.  This  statement  is  preceded  by  this  other 
erroneous  assertion:  "The  prevalence  of  Realism,  which  marks 
mediaeval  metaphysics  down  to  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
is  another  Platonic  inheritance,  and  another  impulse  to  unity.  The 
universal  is  and  is  a  veritable  thing  in  which  the  particular  shares 
and  acquires  its  substance  by  its  degree  of  sharing."  Nothing  is 
more  contrary  to  scholastic  philosophy  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
20  Of,  ch.  IX,  iv  and  vii. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  239 

to  some  part  of  the  state.  The  prince  is  the  head; 
the  senate  is  the  heart;  officers  and  judges  are  the 
eyes,  ears,  and  tongue;  officials  are  the  hands;  the 
peasants  and  the  workers  are  the  feet  of  the  state, — 
so  that,  remarks  this  Enghsh  writer,  the  state  has 
more  feet  than  a  centipede  or  a  scolopendra.  The 
function  of  protecting  the  people  becomes  the 
"footwear"  of  the  state.  Indeed,  there  is  no  reason 
why  one  might  not  continue  this  little  game  of 
anthropomorphic  comparison  without  end.^^ 

The  idea  is  no  discovery  of  John  of  Salisbury's. 
He  himself  refers  it  to  a  letter  written  by  Plutarch 
to  Trajan  (falsely  so  far  as  we  yet  know).  The 
comparison  is  repeated  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
but  it  has  lost  its  literal  value.  Each  state,  each 
church,  each  city,  even  each  guild,  is  compared  to 
a  natural  body.  But  the  philosophers  of  that  cen- 
tury are  not  misled  by  its  purely  figurative  value, 
and  Engelbert  of  Volkersdorf,  abbot  of  Admont, 
who  writes  about  1290  a  treatise  concerning  the 
rule  of  Princes,  speaks  of  a  moral  and  political 
body,  in  contrast  with  the  body  of  nature.^^  Fur- 
ther, when  Thomas  Aquinas  calls  the  collectivity 
of  the  citizens  a  public  person,  persona  publicaj^^ 
there  is  no  doubt  possible  about  his  true  meaning. 

Reduced  to  the  role  of  an  imaginative  instru- 
ment, the  comparison  is  not  wanting  in  elegance; 

21  Polycraticus,  lib.  V,  cap.  1  and  2. 

22  Gierke,  op.  cit.,  p.  24. 
zsSumma  Theol  lagae,  q.  XC,  art.  3. 


240  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

it  shows  in  a  striking  way  that,  in  a  political  or  ec- 
clesiastical organism,  the  members  do  not  occupy 
the  same  place;  that  there  are  diversities  of  func- 
tions; that  there  are  intermediate  articulations; 
that  a  healthy  organ  can  help  or  supply  a  weak  or 
defective  organ.  The  comparison  is  well  suited  to 
the  mediaeval  mind  with  its  delight  in  symbols,  and 
to  an  age  which  speaks  of  the  mystical  marriage  of 
Christ  with  the  Church  and  of  the  bishop  with  his 
diocesan  church,  and  which  likens  to  daughters  the 
various  abbeys  which  have  grown  out  of  the  mother 
abbey.  Such  symbols,  and  many  more,  deceived 
no  one.  Nor  do  we  today  take  literally  Tennyson's 
comparison  of  "the  million-footed  mob,"~*  or  the 
expression  "adopted  towns,"  which  was  given  to 
certain  cities  crushed  during  the  war,  or  "mother- 
towns"  as  the  name  proudly  assumed  by  certain 
other  cities  which  undertook  the  adoption.  The 
philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  century  did  not  mis- 
take the  straw  of  words  for  the  grain  of  ideas.  The 
organic  theory,  made  fashionable  today  by  certain 
German  philosophers  is  contrary  to  the  genius  of 
scholastic  philosophy,  as  it  is  opposed  to  the  juri- 
dical doctrine  of  the  thirteenth  century ;  both  would 
have  regarded  it  as  a  seductive  mirage, 

VII 

A  short  time  before  the  war,  I  made  a  brief  stay 
at  Strasbourg.     In  visiting  its  magnificent  cathe- 

24  The  Fleet. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  241 

dral,  I  observed  that  a  crack  had  appeared  in  one 
of  the  walls  of  the  finished  tower,  and  that  it  had 
been  necessary  to  erect  a  support,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent the  tower  from  collapsing.  A  friend  ex- 
plained to  me  that  the  architects  of  the  thirteenth 
century  had  erected  the  cathedral  on  a  foundation 
of  strong  oak  piles,  which  had  lasted  for  centuries 
because  they  were  driven  into  marshy  ground,  but 
that  the  recent  drainage  works  in  the  city  had 
brought  about  the  unforeseen  consequence  of  drying 
out  these  ancient  water-soaked  timbers,  and  so  un- 
dermining the  cathedral.  Invisible  and  under- 
ground, up  to  that  time  they  had  sustained  the 
f  a9ade  of  this  marvelous  Gothic  gem,  without  any- 
one realizing  how  fundamental  was  their  presence 
and  their  function. 

So  it  is  with  the  metaphysical  doctrine,  which 
may  be  called  the  invisible  and  underlying  support 
of  the  social  philosophy  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
Upon  this  foundation  reposed  morals,  as  upon  mor- 
als is  based  the  guiding  principle  that  the  state  is 
made  for  the  citizens,  the  group  for  its  members. 
If  the  metaphysics  of  the  scholastics  should  settle 
or  fall,  then  in  turn  their  ethics  would  be  compro- 
mised, and  an  ominous  cleft  would  appear  in  their 
social  philosophy.  This  close  interdependence  of 
doctrines  furnishes  a  striking  example  of  the  co- 
herence and  unity  of  the  scholastic  system,  which 
we  have  above  pointed  out.^^ 

25  See  ch.  V,  i. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


The  Theory  of  the  State 

i.  Sovereignty  from  God.  ii.  It  is  a  function;  morality  of 
governors  not  different  from  that  of  the  governed;  what  the 
function  implies,  iii.  Sovereignty  resides  in  the  people  who 
delegate  it.  iv.  The  best  form  of  government  according  to 
the  philosophy  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  v.  Making  of  laws  the 
essential  attribute  of  sovereignty;  natural  law  and  human 
law.  vi.  This  form  of  government  compared  with  the  Euro- 
pean states  of  the  thirteenth  century ;  with  the  modern  nation- 
alities; with  the  theories  of  preceding  centuries. 


The  state  exists  for  the  good  of  the  individuals, 
and  not  conversely.  It  is  in  the  light  of  this  prin- 
ciple that  all  the  problems,  which  the  study  of  state 
organization  raises,  are  solved;  and,  as  thinkers  are 
agreed  on  the  principle,  so  they  will  be  agreed  also 
upon  the  majority  of  solutions  which  issue  from  it, 
by  way  of  application  or  of  corollary.  These  prob- 
lems can  all  be  arranged  under  some  aspect  of  the 
notion  of  sovereignty  or  power.  No  social  life  is 
possible, — whether  in  the  family,  the  village  com- 
munity, the  state,  the  monastery,  the  parish,  the 
diocese,  the  universal  Church — unless  there  exists 
an  authority  to  which  the  members  owe  obedience. 

242 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  243 

What  then  is  the  source  of  sovereignty,  in  what 
does  it  consist,  to  whom  does  it  belong,  what  are  its 
attributes  ?  These  are  some  of  the  specific  problems 
in  the  philosophical  discussion  of  political  life. 

Whence  comes  sovereignty,  this  superiority  of 
one  man,  who  rules  over  his  fellow  men?  Like  their 
predecessors  of  the  preceding  centuries,  the  thir- 
teenth century  philosophers  answer:  All  power 
comes  from  God.  And  their  reasoning  is  as  fol- 
lows. The  entire  universe  is  under  a  providential 
plan;  it  is  governed  by  an  eternal  law  {lea: 
aeterna),  which  is  nothing  but  the  order  of  things, 
the  sum  of  relations  which  result  from  the  nature 
of  beings.^  To  realize  his  end  as  a  rational  being, 
and  to  attain  to  his  happiness,  is  man's  unique  part 
in  cooperating  with  the  universal  cosmic  finality, 
ordained  by  God.  Now,  the  rationale  of  governing 
others,  ratio  guhernationis,  is  instituted  to  make 
easy  for  each  person  the  realization  of  his  end.  It 
must  therefore  be,  in  the  final  analysis,  a  divine 
delegation,  a  command  according  to  which  the  rul- 
ers carry  out  those  necessary  functions  which  will 
enable  the  individual  members  to  occupy  their  as- 
signed places  in  the  divine  economy.^ 

Accordingly,  rulers  hold  divine  power  by  dele- 

1  See  below  v  of  this  chapter. 

2  "Cum  ergo  lex  aeterna  sit  ratio  gubernationis  in  supremo  guber- 
nante,  necesse  est  quod  omnes  rationes  gubernationis  quae  sunt  in 
inferioribus  gubernantibus  a  lege  aeterna  deriventur."  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Sumrna  TheoL,  lagae,  q.  XCIII,  a.  3. 


244  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

gation.  This  theory  is  independent  of  the  further 
question:  In  what  way  does  this  power,  divine  in 
its  essence,  come  to  those  who  hold  it,  and  to  whom 
is  it  given?  Let  the  rulers  hold  this  power  from 
God  directly,  as  the  legalists  and  the  De  Monarchia 
teach,  or  let  the  delegation  of  temporal  power  pass 
through  the  Papal  channel,  as  the  partisans  of 
mediate  divine  power  maintain;  let  sovereignty  be 
in  the  hands  of  a  monarch  or  a  representative  re- 
pubhc, — in  any  case,  it  always  derives  back  to  God 
as  its  source.  The  demands  of  metaphysics  link  it 
up  with  God. 

II 

The  raison  d'etre  of  sovereignty  therefore  fixes 
its  nature.  And  this  brings  us  to  our  second  ques- 
tion: In  what  does  sovereignty  consist?  Legal- 
ists and  canonists  and  philosophers  all  agree  in  the 
reply.  Sovereignty  is  a  utility,  a  function,  an  of- 
ficium;  it  is  dedicated  to  the  well-being  of  all.  The 
applications  of  the  leading  principle,  already  ex- 
plained, are  easy  to  understand.  Since  the  state  is 
made  for  the  individual,  sovereignty  in  the  state  can 
be  only  an  advantage  for  its  members.  Princes  of 
the  earth,  according  to  Thomas  Aquinas,  are  insti- 
tuted by  God,  not  for  their  own  advantage,  but  in 
order  that  they  may  sei-ve  the  common  good.^  The 
kingdom,  says  Ptolemy  of  Lucques,  is  not  made 

3  De  Regimine  Principum,  I,  c.  1-3. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  245 

for  the  king,  but  the  king  for  the  kingdom.*  Even 
under  the  theocratic  papal  rule,  the  idea  persisted 
of  an  officium,  duty,  fused  with  that  of  power. 
The  Pope  is  the  servant  of  the  servants  of  God, 
servus  servorum  Dei.  It  is  just  because  the  state 
is  an  association  of  individuals,  and  instituted  for 
their  welfare,  that  there  is  no  difference  between 
the  morality  of  the  governors  and  that  of  the  gov- 
erned. For  instance,  fideHty  to  treaties  and  obser- 
vance of  the  precepts  of  loyalty  are  required;  they 
constitute  the  very  foundation  of  the  jus  gentium. 
Or,  again,  war  of  conquest  is  forbidden,  because  it 
prevents  the  state  from  watching  over  the  welfare 
of  individuals. 

But  how  will  the  government  fulfill  its  function? 
How  will  it  aid  the  individual  to  attain  his  end, — 
which  is  above  all  a  certain  moral  happiness,  re- 
sulting from  the  facultas  conternjjlandi  veritatem?" 
The  answer  is  this:  By  realizing  the  unitas  inulti- 
tudinis,  a  unity  which  is  accidental  and  external, 
by  realizing  a  bonum  commune,  which  results  from 
the  harmonious  and  convergent  activities  expended 
by  the  citizen, — activities  which  the  De  Regimine 
is  so  careful  to  distinguish  from  the  unitas  hominis 
of  each  individual.^ 

4  Regnum  non  propter  regem,  sed  rex  propter  regnum.  De  Regi- 
mine Principum,  III,  c.   11. 

5  See  Thomas  Aquinas,  Comment  in  Ethic.  Nicom.,  X,  11. 

6  Ipsa  tamen  hominis  unitas  per  naturam  causatur ;  multitudinis 
autem  unitas  quae  pax  dicitur,  per  regentis  industriam  est  pro- 
curanda.     De  Regimine  Principum,  lib.  I,  cap.  15. 


246  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Government  is  charged  with  a  threefold  partici- 
pation in  the  affairs  of  our  common  life/  First,  it 
must  establish  (instituere)  the  common  weal  by 
guarding  the  peace  within  its  bounds,  sometimes 
referred  to  as  convenientia  voluntatum,^  by  inciting 
the  citizens  to  lead  a  moral  life,  and  by  providing 
for  a  sufficient  abundance  {sufficiens  copia)  of  the 
necessities  of  life.  The  public  weal  once  estab- 
lished, the  next  duty  is  to  conserve  it.  This  is  ac- 
complished by  assuring  a  recruitment  of  the  agents 
of  administration;  by  repressing  disorder;  by  en- 
couraging morality  through  a  system  of  rewards 
and  punishments;  and  by  protecting  the  state 
against  the  attacks  of  enemies  from  without.  Fi- 
nally, the  government  is  charged  with  a  third  mis- 
sion, more  vague,  more  elastic;  to  improve  {ut  sit 
de  promotione  solicitus) ,  to  rectify  abuses,  to  make 
up  for  defects,  to  work  for  progress. 

The  bonum  commune  to  be  established  and  main- 
tained by  the  government  is  based  upon  a  splendid 
conception  of  solidarity:  every  good  and  virtuous 
act  performed  by  the  individual  man  is  capable  of 
benefitting  the  community, — the  community  in 
which  he  has  membership,  as  a  part  of  the  whole. 
Hence  it  follows  that,  in  the  state,  the  individual 
good  can  be  referred  always  to  the  common  wel- 
fare :  the  scholar  who  studies  and  teaches,  the  monk 
who  prays  and  preaches,  these  render  service  to  the 

7  De  Regimine  Principvm,  lib.  I,  cap.  15. 

8  Thomas  Aquinas,  In  Ethic.  Nicom.,  Ill,  8. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  247 

community  as  much  as  do  the  artisan  and  the 
farmer  and  the  common  laborer.  Thomas  Aquinas 
expressly  teaches  that  every  virtuous  action  (in  the 
realm  of  nature  or  of  grace )  can  enter  into  the  con- 
stitution of  general  or  legal  justice  {justitia  gener- 
alis  'vel  legalis)  ;  for  virtue  here  adjusts,  with  an 
eye  to  the  common  welfare,  the  relations  of  order 
maintaining  in  the  conduct  of  the  various  members 
of  the  community.^^ 

This  conception  assumes  special  significance, — a 
significance  characteristic  of  the  social  order  in  the 
thirteenth  century — when  one  reflects  upon  the 
Prince  as  charged  with  making  effectual  this  virtue 
in  the  justitia  legalis.  It  is  he  who  possesses  the 
virtue  of  justice  by  right  of  headship  {architect- 
onic e) ,   and  in  an  eminent  manner,  whereas  his 

8=1  See  Summa  Theol.,  2^-2^%  q.  LVIII,  art.  5,  for  the  important 
text  in  this  connection.  "Manifestum  est  autem  quod  omnes  qui  sub 
communitate  aliqua  continentur,  comparantur  ad  communitatem 
sicut  partes  ad  totum;  pars  autem  id  quod  est,  totius  est;  unde  et 
quodlibet  bonum  partis  est  ordinabile  in  bonum  totius.  Secundum 
hoc  ergo  bonum  cujuslibet  virtutis,  sive  ordinantis  aliquem  homlnem 
ad  seipsum,  sive  ordinantis  ipsum  ad  aliquas  alias  personas  singu- 
lares,  est  referibile  ad  bonum  commune,  ad  quod  ordinat  justitia. 
Et  secundum  hoc  actus  omnium  virtutum  possunt  ad  justitiam  perti- 
nere,  secundum  quod  ordinant  hominem  ad  bonum  commune.  Et 
quantum  ad  hoc  justitia  dicitur  virtus  generalis.  Et  quia  ad  legem 
pertinet  ordinare  ad  bonum  commune,  .  .  .  inde  est  quod  talis 
justitia  praedicto  modo  generalis  dicitur  justitia  legalis,  quia  scilicet 
per  eam  homo  concordat  legi  ordinanti  actus  omnium  virtutum  in 
bonum  commune." 


248  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

subordinate  possesses  it  only  in  administrative  de- 
pendence and  secondarily.^"  The  Prince  is  custos 
justi,  the  guardian  of  what  is  just;  he  is  ju^tum  ani- 
matum,  the  personification  of  what  is  just.^*"  He  is 
the  peace-maker  of  society.  By  virtue  of  this  title 
he  is  qualified  to  direct  the  activities  of  his  subordi- 
nates, to  bid  men  to  pray  or  to  battle  or  to  build  or 
to  farm, — always  for  the  greatest  common  good.^* 

If,  nevertheless,  he  who  governs  fails  to  be  in- 
spired with  this  sense  of  the  public  good  and  aban- 
dons himself  to  a  selfish  and  capricious  use  of 
power,  then  he  must  be  regarded  as  a  tyrant. 

Every  treatise,  written  for  the  use  of  princes  and 
future  kings,  exhibits  a  dread  of  the  tyrant  who 
allows  his  own  personal  advantage  to  override  the 
good  of  the  group.  Dante  reserves  a  special  place 
in  his  hell  for  tyrants,  by  the  side  of  brigands  and 
assassins. 

Each  establishes  an  entire  system  of  guarantees 
to  preserve  the  state  against  tyranny,  which  is  so 
opposed  to  its  nature.  Some  of  these  guarantees 
are  preventive.  Thus,  Thomas  in  the  De  Regi- 
mine  Principum,  would  have  the  people, — for  the 

^^  Ibid.,  art.  6.  "Et  sic  est  (justitia  legalis)  in  principe  prin- 
cipaliter  et  quasi  architectonice ;  in  subditis  autem  secundario  et 
quasi  administrative." 

&"  Ibid.,  art.  1,  ad  quintum. 

s**  The  same  principle  was  invoked  by  ecclesiastical  authority  in 
laying  upon  the  Prince  the  duty  of  suppressing  heresy.  The  bonum 
commune,  as  it  was  understood  in  the  thirteenth  century,  required 
that  man's  end  in  the  divine  economy  should  be  safeguarded  and 
that  therefore  the  Prince  should  rigorously  check  any  error  which 
might  lead  astray  the  members  of  the  community. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  249 

thirteenth  century,  be  it  remembered,  maintains  the 
thesis  of  the  sovereign  people — at  the  moment  of 
the  choice  of  their  rulers,  inquire  into  their  char- 
acter, and  find  out  whether  they  have  a  despotic 
temperament.  "Look  out  for  your  king,"  he  says 
(providendum  de  rege).^  Some  of  these  guaran- 
tees are  intended  to  last  throughout  the  period  of 
their  rule;  for  his  power  must  be  controlled  and 
balanced  by  others, — wheels  within  wheels,  as  we 
shall  show  later.  Finally,  some  of  these  guarantees 
are  repressive.  Resistance  is  not  only  permitted 
to  unjust  orders  of  the  tyrant,  but  it  is  enjoined; 
and  in  extreme  cases  the  people  who  have  chosen 
can  depose.  While  John  of  Salisbury  considers 
tyrannicide  as  lidtum,  aequum  and  justum^^ 
Thomas  Aquinas  expressly  condemns  tyrannicide. 
He  desires  that  that  people  should  do  their  best  to 
endure  an  unjust  ruler;  but  if  the  government  be- 
comes quite  unendurable,  he  allows  the  right  of  de- 
posing an  unworthy  ruler,  which  indeed  is  the  nec- 
essary corollary  of  the  power  of  choosing  him." 

While  it  is  clear  that  the  philosophers  of  the 
thirteenth  century  were  keenly  sensitive  to  the  pic- 
tures of  tyrants,  which  they  found  in  the  Politics 
of  Aristotle,  it  is  no  less  clear  that  the  public  life 
of  their  own  age  afforded  them  actual  illustrations 
of  tyranny,  which  helped  to  provide  an  inspiration 

9  Lib.  I,  cap.  6.     Cf.  his  Comment  Polit.  lib.  Ill,  lectio  14. 

10  Polycraticus  III,  15. 

11  De  Regimine  Princ,  lib.  I,  cap.  6, 


250  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

for  their  theory.  Ptolemy  of  Lucques,  who  com- 
pleted the  De  Regimine  Principium  begun  by 
Thomas,  poured  contempt  on  the  tyrants  of  the 
minor  Italian  republics  of  his  day  {hodie  in  Italia) , 
who  exploited  the  state  for  their  own  personal  bene- 
fit. Perhaps  he  had  in  mind  the  Podestas,  who 
were  called  from  abroad  to  carry  on  the  administra- 
tion of  the  Italian  republics,  and  who,  once  they 
had  secured  the  position,  thought  only  of  advanc- 
ing their  own  interests.  Thomas  Aquinas  must 
surely  have  known  cases  of  feudal  tyrants,  sover- 
eigns who  abused  their  power.  The  thirteenth  cen- 
tury witnessed  more  than  one  royal  deposition.  It 
suffices  to  recall  how  the  barons  of  John  Lackland 
declared  against  him. 

Ill 

But  their  doctrine  is  self-consistent,  no  matter 
who  is  entrusted  with  authority.  And  this  brings 
us  to  the  third  question,  which  is  the  most  interest- 
ing of  all.  Where  does  sovereignty  reside, — this 
sovereignty  which  has  its  origin  in  divine  delega- 
tion and  its  raison  d'etre,  its  delimitation,  in  the  so- 
cial good? 

While  the  jurists  and  canonists  are  occupied  only 
with  the  Roman  Empire,  the  existing  monarchies, 
and  the  Papacy,^^  the  philosophers  take  a  more 
general  view.    The  most  striking  is  Thomas  Aqui- 

12(7/.     Gierke,  op.  cit.   (Maitland's  transl.),  pp.  30  and  70, — notes 
131  and  174. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  251 

nas,  who  gave  to  the  droit  social  of  the  thirteenth 
century  a  remarkable  consistency, — which  he  im- 
posed on  his  contemporaries  and  his  successors.  It 
was  Thomas  who  also  influenced  his  friend,  Wil- 
liam of  Moerbeke,  to  translate  into  Latin  the  Poli- 
tics of  Aristotle. 

To  understand  the  political  system  of  Thomas, 
we  must  distinguish  two  distinct  aspects  of  the 
problem.  On  the  one  hand,  in  any  state, — what- 
ever its  degree  of  perfection — there  is  the  question 
of  the  seat  of  sovereignty.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  the  question  of  this  same  sovereignty  in 
the  state  which  he  believes  to  be  the  most  perfect. 

As  regards  the  first  question.  In  any  state 
sovereignty  arises  from  collectivity  and  belongs  to 
all  the  people,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  masses  made 
up  of  individuals.  Since  it  is  the  people  who  con- 
stitute the  state,  and  it  is  for  the  good  of  all  the 
citizens  that  sovereignty  should  be  exercised,  it  is 
logical  to  conclude  that  God  has  entrusted  to  the 
collectivity  itself  the  power  of  ruling  and  legislat- 
ing. Thus  the  doctrine  of  the  "sovereignty  of  the 
people"  is  not  a  modern  discovery  at  all;  it  is  in  di- 
rect harmony  with  the  leading  idea  of  the  scholas- 
tic political  philosophy,  that  individuals  are  the  only 
social  realities,  and  that  therefore,  the  state  is  not 
an  entity  outside  of  them.  By  a  new  link,  then,  this 
doctrine  binds  the  droit  social  to  metaphysics  and 
ethics. 

But  the  body  of  citizens  is  too  numerous,  too  un- 


252  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

formed,  too  fickle,  to  exercise  by  itself  the  power 
which  has  been  assigned  to  it  b}^  divine  decree.  Ac- 
cordingly, it  in  turn,  delegates  this  power.  Usu- 
ally they  commit  it  to  a  monarch;  but  not  neces- 
sarily,— for  the  people  may  also  delegate  it  to  an 
aristocratic  or  to  a  republican  form  of  government. 
If  the  people  delegate  it  to  a  monarch — and  that 
is  the  common  mediaeval  illustration — he  repre- 
sents the  group  and  holds  power  for  the  group; 
ordinare  autem  aliquid  in  honum  commune  est  vel 
totius  multitudinis,  vel  alicujus  gerentis  vicem  to- 
tins  multitudinis,^^ 

The  monarch,  therefore,  is  only  a  vice-regent. 
This  is  so  literally  true  that  (as  we  have  already 
seen  in  the  De  Regimine  Principum)  precautions 
were  usually  recommended,  when  a  vice-regent  was 
to  be  selected.  Indeed,  as  Thomas  says,"  "among 
a  free  people  who  can  make  laws  for  themselves, 
the  consent  given  popularly  to  certain  practices, 
constantly  made  clear  by  custom,  has  more  weight 
than  the  authority  of  the  prince ;  for  the  latter  holds 
the  power  of  legislating  only  so  far  as  he  represents 
the  will  of  the  people."  So,  the  power  is  transmit- 
ted, by  this  successive  delegation  from  God  to  the 
people  and  from  the  people  to  the  monarch.  It  is 
the  entire  collectivity  which  is  the  original  subject 
of  the  power.  The  people  possess  it  by  a  certain 
natural  title,  which  nothing  can  destroy;  but  the 

13  Summa.  Theol.,  lagae,  q,  XC,  art.  3. 
^4:  Ibid.,  q.  XCVII,  art.  3,  ad  tertium. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  253 

king  holds  it  subject  to  the  will  of  the  people,  which 
of  course  may  change. 

There  is,  then,  at  the  soui^e  of  the  delegation 
made  by  the  people  to  the  king,  a  contract;  in  the 
less  developed  states  this  is  a  rudimentary  or  im- 
plrcit  will,  but  in  states  which  have  arrived  at  a 
high  degree  of  organization  the  will  is  exphcit. 
This  will  can  give  expression  to  itself,  in  a  thousand 
different  ways,  each  one  of  them  sufficient  to  render 
legitimate  the  holding  of  power. 

This  mediaeval  principle  of  the  acquisition  of 
power  by  contract  is  in  admirable  agreement  with 
the  metaphysical  doctrine  that  the  individual  alone 
is  a  real  substance.  Since  the  state  is  not  an  en- 
tity, the  will  of  a  state  is  nothing  but  the  result  of 
the  will  of  all  its  members;  and  the  state  cannot 
exist  without  the  mutual  trust  of  the  members  and 
those  who  are  appointed  to  direct  them.  Again  the 
principle  is  in  admirable  agreement  with  feudal  so- 
ciety and  feudal  monarchy,  which  rests  entirely 
upon  the  pact,  pactum;  upon  the  oath  of  fealty 
which  is  the  religious  guarantee  of  fidehty  to  the 
given  word.  Are  not  the  pacts  between  kings  and 
burgesses,  barons  and  prelates,  foundation  princi- 
ples of  the  institutions  which  envelop  and  assist  in 
constructing  the  feudal  monarchy?  When  one  of 
the  contracting  parties  breaks  his  agreement,  the 
other  at  once  withdraws  his  part  in  the  bargain  and 
resists.     The  history  of  the  relations  between  the 


254  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

kings  and  their  feudatories  and  towns  is  full  of  in- 
stances of  such  resistance. 

In  principle, — as  we  have  said,  the  delegation  of 
sovereignty  by  the  people  is  of  the  same  nature, 
whether  it  be  made  to  a  monarch,  or  to  an  aristoc- 
racy, or  to  a  republic.  In  a  monarchy,  there  is  the 
advantage  that  the  power  is  concentrated;  and,  as 
Thomas  points  out,  the  absence  of  diffusion  is  more 
efficacious  ( for  both  good  and  evil  purposes )  :  Vir- 
tus unitiva  magis  est  ejficaoc  quam  dispersa  et  di- 
visa.^^  But,  he  goes  on  to  say,  circumstances  them- 
selves must  decide,  at  any  given  moment  in  the  po- 
litical life  of  a  people,  which  is  the  best  form  of 
government;  and  this  supplementary  statement 
gives  to  his  theory  that  elasticity  which  renders  it 
adaptable  to  any  set  of  conditions. 

IV 

Thomas  himself,  however,  shows  very  marked 
preference  for  a  composite  form  of  government, 
which  he  considers  the  most  perfect  realization  of 
this  popular  delegation, — and  we  have  already  con- 
sidered that  form  in  general.  This  mixed  system 
is  that  in  which  the  sovereignty  belongs  to  the  peo- 
ple, but  at  the  same  time  it  is  combined  with  both 
an  elective  monarchy  and  also  an  oligarchy  to  cur- 
tail the  exercise  of  power  by  the  monarch.  The 
general  plan  of  his  system  is  outlined  from  this 
classic  text:    "Whereas  these  (that  is,  the  various 

15  De  Begimine  Principum,  lib.  I,  cap.  3. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  255 

forms  of  government)  differ  in  kind  .  .  .  neverthe- 
less the  first  place  is  held  by  the  "kingdom,"  where 
the  power  of  government  is  vested  in  one,  an  "aris- 
tocracy," which  signifies  government  by  the  best, 
where  the  power  of  government  is  vested  in  a  few. 
Accordingly,  the  best  form  of  government  is  in  a 
state  or  kingdom,  wherein  one  is  given  the  power 
to  preside  over  all ;  while  under  him  are  others  hav- 
ing governing  powers.  And  yet  a  government  of 
this  kind  is  shared  hy  all,  both  because  all  are  eligi- 
ble to  govern,  and  because  the  rulers  are  chosen  by 
all.  For  this  is  the  best  form  of  polity,  being  partly 
kingdom,  since  there  is  one  at  the  head  of  all;  partly 
aristocracy,  in  so  far  as  a  number  of  persons  are  set 
in  authority ;  partly  democracy,  i.e.,  government  by 
the  people,  in  so  far  as  the  rulers  can  be  chosen 
from  the  people,  and  the  people  have  the  right  to 
choose  their  rulers."'*' 

In  this  passage,  written  about  1250,  the  follow- 
ing political  principles  are  affirmed:  universal  suf- 
frage, the  right  of  the  humblest  citizen  to  be  raised 
to  the  highest  power,  the  consecration  of  personal 
worth  and  virtue,  a  representative  and  elective 
monarchy,  and  the  right  of  the  people  to  delegate, 
to  those  who  are  most  worthy  of  it,  that  sacred  gift 
of  God  called  power. 

This  pregnant  text  contains  in  a  condensed  form, 

1-QSumma  Theol.  lagae,  q.  CV,  art.  1.  English  translation  (Domi- 
nicans), Part  II  (First  Part),  Third  Number,  p.  250,  Benzinger, 
1915,  New  York. 


256  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

in  '''latin  lapidaire/^  a  considerable  number  of  prob- 
lems, of  which  we  shall  consider  only  a  few. 

First,  since  the  state  must  serve  the  good  of  the 
individual,  it  is  necessary  that  those  whom  the 
popular  will  places  at  the  head  shall  have  intelli- 
gence, and  sufficient  moral  integrity,  to  see  and  un- 
derstand the  public  interest  and  to  promote  it. 
Thus,  government  by  insight  is  necessary.  Reason, 
which  is  given  such  a  high  place  in  the  economy  of 
individual  life,"  is  also  the  sovereign  guide  in  social 
life.  The  system  of  delegated  power  will  be  the 
more  perfect  in  proportion  as  it  sees  to  it  that 
power  shall  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  most  de- 
serving,— or,  rather,  the  most  virtuous,  to  use  the 
mediaeval  phrase.  Again,  men  of  action  ought  to 
be  under  the  direction  of  men  of  insight;  for,  "in 
the  direction  of  human  affairs,  excess  arises  from 
the  fact  that  the  man  at  the  head  really  has  no  head. 
Those  who  excel  in  powers  of  understanding  are 
natural  leaders," — in  regimine  humano  inordinatio 
provenit  eoc  eo  quod  non  propter  intellectus  prae- 
eminentiam  cdiquis  praeest,^^ 

This  is  why  the  most  perfect  form  of  delegation 
of  power  is  the  elective  system;  for  as  Thomas 
writes  in  his  commentary  on  the  Politics  of  Aris- 
totle, election  is  a  work  of  reason^^  and  the  means 

17  See  above  ch.  VIII,  iii  and  iv. 

18  Contra  Gentiles,  lib.  Ill,  cap.  78.    Illi  qui  intellectu  praeeminent 
naturaliter  dominantur. 

19  Electio  per  se  est  appetitus  ratione  determinatus  Com.  in  Politic, 
lib.  Ill,  lectio  14. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  257 

of  choosing  the  most  worthy.  Such  election  appUes 
to  the  monarch,  and  also  to  his  ministers  in  the  gov- 
ernment, whom  Thomas  includes  in  his  composite 
form  of  government  without  defining  their  func- 
tions. 

Finally,  Thomas  lays  down  a  condition  for  the 
exercise  of  popular  election :  it  is  necessary  that  the 
people  be  sufficiently  informed  on  the  issues  at 
stake,  and  in  consequence  they  must  undergo  a 
political  education,  an  education  in  citizenship. 
Thus,  in  agreement  with  Augustine,  he  says:  "If 
the  people  have  a  sense  of  moderation  and  respon- 
sibility, and  are  most  careful  guardians  of  the  com- 
mon weal,  it  is  right  to  enact  a  law  allowing  such  a 
people  to  choose  their  own  magistrates  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  commonwealth.  But  if,  as  time 
goes  on,  the  same  people  became  so  corrupt  as  to 
sell  their  votes,  and  entrust  the  government  to 
scoundrels  and  criminals,  then  the  right  of  appoint- 
ing their  public  officials  is  properly  forfeited  by 
such  a  people,  and  the  choice  devolves  upon  a  few 
good  men."^*^  We  see  here  again,  as  always,  how 
our  fundamental  principle  comes  into  play:  popu- 
lar suffrage  must  contribute  to  the  realization  in 
the  state  of  the  good  of  all.  If  popular  suffrage 
itself  is  detrimental,  its  exercise  must  be  sus- 
pended. 

20  Summa  Theol,  la^ae,  q.  XCVII,  art.  1. 


258  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 


How  does  the  sovereign  power,  whatever  it  be, 
carry  out  its  functions?  According  to  scholastic 
philosophy,  the  essential  attribute,  which  enables  a 
government  to  fulfil  its  mission,  is  the  power  to 
establish  laws.  To  establish  laws  for  others  is,  in- 
deed, the  most  natural  form  of  order. 

The  theory  of  human  law,  in  the  page  of  Thomas 
Aquinas,  is  intimately  bound  up  with  his  psychol- 
ogy and  ethics  and  metaphysics;  and  it  forms  part 
of  an  original  whole  which  can  be  called  briefly 
"the  system  of  laws."^^  Human  or  positive  law, 
leoc  humana  sen  positiva,  has  a  twofold  aspect; 
namely,  the  jus  gentium,  which  belongs  to  all  peo- 
ples alike,  and  the  jus  civile,  civil  law,  which  be- 
longs properly  to  a  single  state  as  such.  In  either 
case,  this  human  law  is  simply  a  derivative  from 
natural  law;  and  natural  law  in  turn  is  only  the 
application — to  man  as  a  natural  creature — of  the 
eternal  decree  of  the  uncreated  wisdom,  lea^  aeterna. 

With  regard  to  the  question  now  before  us,  it 
will  be  sufficient  to  say  that  the  law  of  nature,  or 
natural  human  right,  is  that  totality  of  regulations 
which  rests  upon  the  fundamental  perfection  of  the 
human  being;  this  does  not  change  and  cannot 
change,  because  it  abides  in  the  mutual  relationship 
between  the  essence  of  God  (the  solitary  support 
of  all  reality)  and  His  creatures.     Thomistic  phi- 

21  Summa  Theol,  la^ae,  qq.  XC-C. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  259 

losophy  sums  it  all  up  in  this  formula:  the  natural 
law  is  a  participation  in  the  eternal  law, — le^c  nat- 
uralis  est  participatio  quaedam  legis  aeternae.^^  It 
follows,  then,  that  each  human  individual  bears  in 
himself  a  totality  of  rights  and  of  duties,  which  are 
the  expression  of  his  nature, — that  is  to  say,  of  his 
status  as  a  reasonable  being.  It  also  follows  that 
the  natural  precepts  of  this  law,  the  principles  of 
social  order,  are  the  same  for  all  men  and  for  all 
time,  and  that  to  destroy  them  would  mean  the  de- 
struction of  man  himself.  Positive,  or  human,  law 
cannot  violate  them.  For,  as  Thomas  says,  in  so 
far  as  human  law  disagrees  with  the  law  of  nature, 
it  is  no  longer  a  law,  but  a  corruption  of  the  law;^^ 
it  is  placed  outside  the  scope  of  human  legislation. 

The  human  law,  indeed,  draws  its  strength,  its 
raison  d'etre,  only  from  natural  law, — of  which  it 
is  the  echo,  so  to  speak,  the  lengthening  out,  the  ful- 
filling. Direct  applications,  evident  corollaries  of 
the  social  nature  of  man,  belong  to  the  jus  gentium, 
(that  which  is  right  for  all  nations)  such  as  "justice 
in  buying  and  selling  and  other  similar  things,  with- 
out which  social  life  would  be  impossible.""* 

But  there  are  less  obvious  and  more  remote  con- 
sequences of  the  natural  law;  and  there  are  appli- 
cations which  vary  J  according  to  the  concrete  cir- 
cumstances peculiar  to  each  state.     It  rests  with 

22  Ibid.,  q.  XCI,  art.  2. 

23  Ibid.,  q.  XCV,  art.  2. 

24  Ibid. 


260  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

the  government  of  particular  groups,  to  determine 
these;  and  this  is  done  under  the  form  of  positive 
law.  For  example,  the  natural  law  demands  that 
the  malefactor  be  punished;  but  it  does  not  indicate 
the  method  or  form  of  punishment, — whether  he 
ought  to  be  punished  by  fine  or  by  prison  or  by 
death.^'  It  is  left  to  the  wisdom  of  human  law  to 
set  right  the  implications  of  natural  law. 

Thus,  securely  linked  with  the  law  of  nature,  all 
human  law  is  bound  up  with  reason,  which  is  the 
basis  of  being  human.  "Human  law  is  an  ordi- 
nance of  reason  for  the  common  good,  made  by  him 
who  has  care  of  the  community,  and  promulgated."^^ 

VI 

To  be  sure,  the  state  described  by  Thomas  Aqui- 
nas is  an  ideal,  or  theoretical  conception.  As  such 
of  course  it  could  not  be  realized  in  practice  in  any 
complete  sense;  for  real  societies  are  too  complex 
to  conform  to  any  set  or  uniform  scheme.  But  with 
this  reservation,  it  seems  fair  to  say  that  the  great 
European  states,  which  were  all  then  in  process  of 
formation,  attempted  from  their  several  angles  to 
reahze  in  fact  some  such  system  of  "limited  mon- 
archy" as  Thomas  outlines.  For  example,  the 
France  of  Louis  IX,  in  which  the  transmission  of 
power,  resting  upon  the  popular  will,  was  modify- 

25  Ibid. 

26  Quaedam  rationis  ordinatio  ad  bonum  commune  et  ab  eo  qu' 
curam  commimitatis  habet,  promulgata.     Ibid.,  q.  XC,  art.  4. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  261 

ing  the  growing  power  of  the  king  by  a  certain  sys- 
tem of  control,  the  England  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury and  a  little  later,  was  bringing  its  kings  face 
to  face  with  national  parliaments;  about  the  same 
time  Spain  also  achieves  its  Cortes,  a  popular  as- 
sembly raised  up  in  the  midst  of  the  centralized 
government  of  Castile  and  Aragon.^^  Everywhere, 
the  supreme  prerogative  of  sovereignty  lay  in  the 
exercise  of  the  judicial  power,  which  was  nothing 
but  the  logical  consequence  of  the  power  to  give 
orders  and  to  enforce  them.  Everywhere  were 
manifest  those  efforts  towards  a  more  perfect  con- 
sistency. But  on  the  other  hand,  these  efforts  never 
attained  to  that  form  of  administrative  centraliza- 
tion which  we  have  come  to  know  in  the  modern 
state. 

Then  again  it  is  important  to  note  that  the  Tho- 
mistic  doctrines  applied  to  states  and  not  to  na- 
tions. The  sentiment  of  love  for  fatherland,  which 
appeared  in  the  Chanson  de  Roland — where  la 
douce  terre  de  France  is  spoken  of — found  its  place 
in  the  moral  system  of  Thomas  Aquinas.  He 
speaks  of  the  pietas  which  we  owe  to  our  natal  soil, 

27  Concerning  the  historical  origin  of  the  divers  political  functions 
in  Capetian  France  (the  notion  of  the  royal  offlcium,  the  role  of 
justicier  played  by  the  sovereign,  the  oath  of  fidelity  from  subjects, 
the  importance  of  the  elections  and  of  the  "sacre"  and  coronation, 
the  designatio  of  the  heir  apparent  before  Louis  VII),  see  Luchaire, 
Histoire  des  institutions  monarchiques  sous  Us  premiers  capStiens 
(987-1180),  vol.  I,  Paris,  1891.  Of.  Zeiller,  L'idee  de  VEtat  dans 
St.   Thomas,  Paris,  1910. 


262  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

— in  qua  nati  et  nutriti  sumus;  and  he  considers  the 
citizen  to  be  a  debtor  to  his  fatherland,  ''debitor 
patriae/'^^ 

But  nation  means  more  than  state  and  father- 
land. In  om-  modern  conception,  a  nation  presup- 
poses a  strongly  organized  state, — with  an  accumu- 
lation of  traditions  behind  it,  with  institutions, 
rights  and  feelings,  with  victories  and  sufferings, 
and  with  a  certain  type  of  mind  (religious,  moral, 
and  artistic).  These  are  its  elements.  The  result 
is  that  the  bond  which  unites  the  nation  is  above  all 
psychical  in  character  (intellectual  and  moral), 
rather  than  territorial  or  racial. 

Now  the  European  nations,  thus  defined,  did  not 
exist  in  the  thirteenth  century :  they  were  in  process 
of  formatio7i.  The  monarchical  states  were  to  be- 
come the  nuclei  of  the  nations  of  modern  times. 
War  was  not  then  a  contest  between  two  nations, 
but  a  struggle  between  two  members  of  a  single 
family,  or  two  kings,  or  two  vassals,  or  between  the 
vassal  and  the  lord.  It  retained  the  character  of  a 
private  feud;  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  quarrels 
between  towns  and  between  classes  in  the  same 
town.  Hence,  in  his  philosophical  doctrine  of  war, 
Thomas  Aquinas  insists  that  a  war,  to  be  just,  must 
be  declared  by  the  legitimate  authority. 

It  was  just  because  the  states  of  the  thirteenth 
century  were  not  formed  into  clearly  defined  na- 
tions, that  they  had  more  traits  in  common  than 

28jSftmwa  Theol,  2a2ae,  q.  CXXII,  art.  5;  q.  CI,  art.  1. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  263 

those  of  today.  But  they  were  on  the  point  of  be- 
coming diversified.  The  thirteenth  century  was 
like  a  central  plateau,  and  the  streams  which  flowed 
from  it,  cut  their  beds  in  different  directions. 

The  Thomistic  theory  of  the  state  represents  the 
cryistallization  of  the  political  experiences  of  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries ;  but  it  also  repre- 
sents conformity  with  the  feudal  and  civil  and 
canon  law,  which  was  making  no  little  progress 
during  this  time.  Consequently  the  three  systems 
of  legislation  (feudal,  civil,  canon)  are  at  one  on 
so  many  important  points,  such  as  the  divine 
origin  of  power,  the  subordination  of  the  king  to 
law,  the  king's  character  as  servitor  of  justice,  the 
force  of  custom,  the  intervention  of  the  community 
in  the  delegation  of  power  to  the  prince,  and  the 
participation  of  the  people  in  government.  In  the 
same  way  natural  law  is  for  the  legists  and  canon- 
ists an  ideal  to  which  positive  (human)  legislation 
must  approach ;  and  the  prescription  of  the  natural 
law  must  be  adopted  in  so  far  as  it  is  possible  in 
existing  circumstances.^^ 

Finally,  the  thirteenth  century  theory  of  the 
state  takes  up  and  completes  various  philosophic 
doctrines  which  had  found  credit  among  former 
philosophers  such  as  Manegold  of  Lautenbach,  and 

29  Cf.  Carlyle,  o'p.  cit.  For  the  civilian  lawyers,  vol.  II,  pp.  27, 
49,  75;  for  the  canonists,  ibid.,  pp.  110,  145,  cf.  VIII,  and  p.  2'42; 
for  the  feudal  lawyers,  vol.  Ill,  pp.  32,  34,  44,  51,  100,  106,  116, 
125,  137,  147,  162,  and  the  conclusion. 


264  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

John  of  Salisbury.  But  it  has  become  a  social  phi- 
losophy, and  it  dresses  all  in  a  synthesis  which  is 
found  neither  among  the  f eudal^Jheorists  nor  among 
the  legists,  nor  among  the  canonists,  nor  among  the 
philosophers  of  the  preceding  centuries.  It  co- 
ordinates all,  and  attaches  the  doctrines  which  it 
establishes  to  a  system  of  psychology,  of  morals,  of 
logic,  and  of  metaphysics.  It  is  a  kind  of  democ- 
racy, conceived  in  moderation^  and  based  upon  the 
pluralistic  conception  of  the  world  and  of  life. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


The  Conception  or  Human  Progress 

i.   The  constant  and  the  permanent,     ii.   Progress  in  science, 
in  morals,  in  social  and  political  justice,  in  civilization. 


Is  there  a  place  in  the  scholasticism  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  for  a  theory  of  progress  ?  The  ques- 
tion concerns  not  only  the  system  of  human  laws; 
it  is  a  general  problem,  and  therefore,  it  must  be 
solved  according  to  general  principles.  Let  us  ob- 
serve briefly  how  scholasticism  succeeded  in  recon- 
ciling the  constant  and  the  variable,  and  in  what 
degree  it  admits  the  possibility  of  change  for  the 
better. 

We  have  already  seen^  what  a  capital  role  the 
stable  and  the  permanent  played  in  the  thirteenth 
century  conception  of  the  world.  Essences  are  un- 
changeable, and  by  them  the  natural  species  are 
fixed;  they  are  imitations  of  the  essence  of  God; 
and  the  degree  of  imitability  does  not  change. 
From  this  it  follows  that  what  constitutes  man,  his 
quiddity  as  they  then  said,  is  everywhere  and  al- 

1  Ch.  IX,  iv. 

265 


266  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

ways  the  same.  One  is  either  a  man  or  not  a  man. 
Essentia  non  suscipit  plus  vel  minus.  Similarly, 
the  first  principles  of  reason — that  is  to  say,  the 
judgments  which  express  the  fundamental  relations 
of  all  being,  the  prerequisites  of  whatever  reality 
may  come  into  actual  existence — are  stable  and  per- 
manent; their  necessity  and  their  universality  are 
absolute.  Take,  for  example,  the  principle  of  con- 
tradiction: "that  which  is  cannot  not  be,"  or  the 
principle  of  causality:  quidquid  movetur  ah  alio 
movetur.  The  scholastics  referred  to  these  princi- 
ples as  per  se  notae,  knowable  of  themselves;  for, 
merel)^  by  understanding  the  subject  and  predicate 
one  can  grasp  the  absolute  necessity  of  the  relation 
which  unites  them,  independently  of  all  experience, 
and  in  consequence  independently  of  all  existence. 
The  first  principles  of  mathematics,  although  less 
general  in  that  they  have  to  do  only  with  quantity, 
express  in  the  same  way  invariable  relations. 

Nor  is  it  otherwise  with  the  principles  of  moral 
and  social  order.  That  good  must  be  done  and 
wrong  avoided,  that  the  state  is  for  the  good  of 
individuals,  are  principles  necessary  and  fixed;  and 
we  have  seen  that  there  exist  rights  derived  from 
nature,  which  no  human  legislation  can  violate. 
However,  the  necessity  of  these  moral  and  social 
principles  is  of  a  different  kind  from  that  of  mathe- 
matical propositions,  and  of  the  principles  of  rea- 
son. These  moral  principles  imply  a  condition; 
namely,  the  existence   of  humanity  in  its  actual 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  267 

state, — the  fact  of  creation.  The  same  also  holds 
true  concerning  the  principles  of  the  natural  sci- 
ences. Hence,  such  principles  are  not  knowable  by 
mere  analysis  and  comparison  of  their  subject  and 
their  predicate  {per  se  notae)  ;  they  manifestly  rest 
on  observation  and  on  experience  {per  aliud  nota)  .^ 

II 

On  the  other  hand,  the  world  of  limited  existence 
involves  change,  and  scholasticism  studied  with 
care  the  problem  of  change.  The  doctrine  of  act 
and  potency, — the  actuality  and  potentiality  in 
each  changing  being — is  nothing  but  their  solution 
of  this  problem.^  Change  appears  everywhere  in 
the  physical  world.  But  change  itself  follows  cer- 
tain imif ormities ;  it  is  dominated  by  finality.  The 
unvarying  return  of  the  seasons,  the  movements  of 
the  planets,  the  cycle  of  physical  and  chemical  laws, 
the  recurrence  of  vital  phenomena  in  plants  and 
animals, — all  of  these  exhibit  the  striking  regular- 
ity which  is  inherent  in  the  realm  of  change.  In  so 
far  as  one  considers  inorganic  beings,  the  vegetable 
and  animal  world,  this  same  recurrence  admits  of 
no  exception.  It  is  not  only  the  species  which  are 
fixed;  the  activities  exhibited  by  the  most  diverse 

2  On  the  scholastic  distinction  between  judgments  'per  se  nota  and 
per  aliud  nota  {aliud  here  means  observation  and  experience),  see 
Mercier,  Logique,  Louvain,  1919,  pp.  135  flf.  Cf.  Thomas  Aquinas,  De 
anima,  II,  14. 

3  See  above  ch.  IX,  iii. 


268  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

individuals  beings  do  not  vary.  In  regard  to  evolu- 
tion, as  we  understand  it  today,  the  dynamic  meta- 
physics of  scholasticism  neither  includes  nor  ex- 
cludes the  change  of  one  species  into  another.  The 
problem  did  not  present  itself  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  Neither  the  theory  of  transformism  nor 
the  theory  of  mutation  is  irreconcilable  with  the 
scholastic  theory  of  the  world.  Indeed,  as  we  have 
seen  above,  a  substance  transforms  itself  always 
into  another  species  of  substance, — it  does  not  mat- 
ter how. 

But  human  acts,  are  they  bound  by  the  same  uni- 
formities,— or,  on  the  contrary,  is  human  progress 
really  possible?  The  question  is  the  more  interest- 
ing because  the  thirteenth  century  believed  that  it 
had  realized  a  state  of  stable  equilibrium,  and  be- 
cause their  extraordinary  optimism  lead  them  to 
believe  that  thej^  had  arrived  at  a  state  close  to 
perfection.  Accordingly  it  is  necessary  to  explain 
how  they  conceived  of  humanity  as  having  tra- 
versed the  lower  stages  in  order  to  arrive  at  this 
degree  of  perfection. 

A  precise  formulation  is  furnished  by  their  meta- 
physical psychology.  Human  nature  is  the  same  in 
all  men,  and  whatever  rests  on  this  nature  is  stable 
and  uniform.  But  the  faculties, — the  direct  source 
of  activities — differ  from  man  to  man,  in  power  and 
in  flexibility.  The  intelligence  and  the  will  are 
energetic  in  a  greater  or  a  less  degree ;  they  are  sus- 
ceptible of  being  perfected  by  education,  and  this 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  269 

perfecting  itself  is  indefinite.  The  repetition  of 
activities  engenders  permanent  dispositions  (habi- 
tiis) ,  which  intensify  effort.  So  it  is  that  there  is 
a  place  for  progress  in  science.  That  which  men 
have  not  been  able  to  discover  up  to  any  given  time, 
ma}^  some  day  be  discovered  by  a  genius  more  pene- 
trating. Thomas  Aquinas  apphes  this  to  the  geo- 
centric hypothesis  of  which  he  foresees  the  possible 
supplanting.*  Science,  moreover,  is  regarded  as  a 
collective  treasure,  which  is  unceasingly  increased 
by  the  contributions  of  succeeding  generations.^ 

In  the  domain  of  morals  and  of  social- justice,  the 
place  accorded  to  change  (of  course  change  for  the 
better)  is  much  more  important.  The  concern  here 
is  not  with  the  increase  of  moral  or  social  judg- 
ments, as  was  the  case  with  science;  but  real  trans- 
formation, and  adaptation,  is  involved,  and  the  un- 
derlying reason  for  this  is  found  in  human  liberty. 
Aside  from  the  immutable  principles  (the  point  of 
departure  and  the  standard  of  morality),  scholasti- 
cism recognizes  that  there  are  applications  of  these 
principles  more  or  less  distinct,  and  more  or  less 
variable.*^  These  principles  govern  the  majority 
of  cases,  but  they  admit  of  exceptions.  Reason  has 
to  weigh  the  value  of  all  the  circumstances  which 
envelop  a  concrete  and  practical  application  of  a 
moral   law.      The   more   numerous   these   circuin- 


4  0/.  above,  p.  113. 
5(7/.  above,  pp.  139  ff. 
«  Cf.   above,  p.  259. 


270  PHILOSOPHY   AND    CIVILIZATION 

stances  become,  the  greater  is  the  elasticity  of  the 
law.  The  matter  is  well  and  clearly  put  by  Thomas 
Aquinas'  as  follows:  "As  to  the  proper  conclu- 
sions of  the  practical  reason,  neither  is  the  truth  or 
rectitude  the  same  for  all,  nor,  where  it  is  the  same, 
is  it  equally  known  by  all.  Thus  it  is  right  and  true 
for  all  to  act  according  to  reason,  and  from  this 
principle  it  follows  as  a  proper  conclusion,  that 
goods  entrusted  to  another  should  be  restored  to 
their  owner.  Now  this  is  true  for  the  majority  of 
cases;  but  it  may  happen  in  a  particular  case  that 
it  would  be  injurious,  and  therefore  unreasonable 
to  restore  goods  held  in  trust;  for  instance,  if  they 
are  claimed  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  against 
one's  country.  And  this  principle  will  be  found  to 
fail  the  more,  according  as  we  descend  further  into 
detail,  e.g.,  if  one  were  to  say  that  goods  held  in 
trust  should  be  restored  with  such  and  such  a  guar- 
antee, or  in  such  and  such  a  way;  because  the 
greater  the  number  of  conditions  added,  the  greater 
the  number  of  ways  in  which  the  principle  may  fail, 
so  that  it  be  not  right  to  restore  or  not  to  restore." 
The  fundamental  inclination  towards  good  abides 
in  the  depths  of  human  conscience;  it  can  be  dark- 
ened, ohtenebrari,  but  not  extinguished.  In  the 
worst  men,  human  nature  remains  good  and  retains 
the  indelible  imprint  of  the  eternal  law.^ 

As  for  social  truths  and  social  laws,  these  are 

T  Summa  Theol.,  la^ae,  q.  XCIV,  art.  4.     Dominican  trans.,  p.  48. 
s  Ibid.,  q.  XCVI,  art.  6. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  271 

even  more  subject  to  the  conditions  of  temporal  of 
negotia,  of  personae  than  are  the  laws  of  the  moral 
individual.''  They  vary  with  them ;  they  are  not  en- 
dowed with  infallibilities.^''  Hence  progress  in  hu- 
man legislation  is  possible.  It  is  certain  that  the 
system  of  limited  monarchy,  to  which  Thomas 
Aquinas  gives  his  preference,  constituted  in  his 
eyes  a  step  forward  from  the  primitive  forms  of 
government  which  he  enumerates.  In  the  follow- 
ing fine  passage  Thomas  shows  how  law,  as  well  as 
science,  is  capable  of  progress.  "Thus  there  may  be 
two  causes  for  the  just  change  of  human  law:  one 
on  the  part  of  reason;  the  other  on  the  part  of  man 
whose  acts  are  regulated  by  law.  The  cause  on  the 
part  of  reason  is  that  it  seems  natural  to  human 
reason  to  advance  gradually  from  the  imperfect  to 
the  perfect.  Hence,  in  speculative  sciences,  we  see 
that  the  teaching  of  the  early  philosophers  was  im- 
perfect, and  that  it  was  afterwards  perfected  by 
those  who  succeeded  them.  So  also  in  practical 
matters :  for  those  who  first  endeavoured  to  discover 
something  useful  for  the  human  community,  not 
being  able  by  themselves  to  take  everything  into 
consideration,  set  up  certain  institutions  which 
were  deficient  in  many  ways;  and  these  were 
changed  by  subsequent  lawgivers  who  made  insti- 
tutions that  might  prove  less  frequently  deficient  in 

^Ibid.,  lagae,  q.  XCVI,  art.  1.     Cf.  the  whole  of  q.  XCVII   («De 
mutatione  legum"). 

^olbid.,  q.  XCI,  art.  3,  ad  tertium. 


272  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

respect  of  the  common  weal.  On  the  part  of  man, 
whose  acts  are  regulated  by  law,  the  law  can  be 
rightly  changed  on  account  of  the  changed  condi- 
tion of  man,  to  whom  different  things  are  expe- 
dient according  to  the  difference  of  his  condition."^^ 

Thus  the  Thomistic  theory  opens  the  way  for 
progress  in  human  legislation ;  and  since  legislation 
is  the  attribute  of  sovereignty,  it  opens  the  way 
likewise  for  progress  in  the  government  of  states. 
But  forthwith  Thomas  adds  this  counsel  of  wis- 
dom: not  without  good  reasons,  should  human  law 
be  changed.  For,  any  change  in  the  law  is  made  at 
the  expense  of  the  power  and  majesty  that  reside  in 
the  legislative  power, — quando  lex  mutatur,  dimi- 
nuitur  vis  constructiva  legis.^^ 

On  the  basis  of  Thomistic  principles,  it  is  there- 
fore possible  to  justify  a  series  of  progressive 
measures.  The  thirteenth  century  could  of  course 
not  envisage  them;  but  they  are  in  the  logic  of  its 
system.  For,  whatever  the  government  may  be,  it 
must  look  ever  towards  betterment  {ut  sit  de  pro- 
motione  solicitus) ;  it  must  put  at  the  disposal  of 
individuals  the  means  of  perfecting  their  person- 
ality. It  must  assure,  for  example,  all  that  con- 
cerns education  of  the  physical  faculties,  of  the  in- 
telligence, and  of  the  moral  will;  it  must  organize 
the  conditions  of  production  and  of  work."    A  like 

^^Ibid.,  q.  XCVII,  art.  1.    Dominican  trans.,  p.  77. 

12  Ibid.,  q.  XCVII,  art.  2. 

13  Cf.  above,  p.  246. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  273 

mission  belongs  to  the  social  authority,  whatever 
may  be  the  form  of  this  authority.  Following  the 
fine  and  judicious  distinction  of  Thomas,  one  must 
determine  in  varying  circumstances,  just  what  form 
of  government  is  most  propitious  to  the  realization 
of  its  social  mission. 

Finally,  like  the  state  and  the  collective  life,  hu- 
man civilization  in  its  entirety  is  capable  of  prog- 
ress; for  it  is  the  result  of  human  activities  which 
are  always  perfectible.  Education,  heredity,  the 
influence  of  authority,  can  all  act  on  the  develop- 
ment of  the  artistic  faculties,  of  scientific  labors,  of 
customs,  of  religious  practice. 

To  sum  up,  then.  Fixity  of  essences  and  essen- 
tial relations;  act  and  potency;  perfectibility  of 
faculties;  liberty  and  adaptability  of  the  collective 
life  to  circumstances  and  needs, — these  are  the 
principles  by  which  scholasticism  solved  the  prob- 
lem of  progress.  They  did  so  by  answering  in  their 
way  the  ancient  Greek  query;  How  reconcile  the 
fixed  and  the  changing? 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

Philosophy  and  National  Temperament  in 
THE  Thirteenth  Century 

i.  Scholastic  philosophy  reflected  in  the  temperament  of 
the  peoples  who  created  it.  ii.  Three  main  doctrines:  the 
value  of  the  individual;  intellectualism ;  moderation,  iii. 
Scholastic  philosophy  the  product  of  Neo-Latin  and  Anglo- 
Celtic  minds;  Germanic  contribution  virtually  negligible,  iv. 
Latin  Averroism  in  the  thirteenth  century,  v.  The  lure  of  Neo- 
Platonism  to  the  German,  vi.  The  chief  doctrines  opposed 
to  the  scholastic  tendencies:  lack  of  clearness;  inclination  to 
pantheism;  deductive  method  a  outrance;  absence  of  moder- 
ation. 


Scholastic  philosophy  is  the  dominant  philosophy 
of  the  thirteenth  century.  Such  is  the  outstanding 
fact,  the  significance  of  which  we  have  attempted 
to  estimate  by  correlating  it  with  the  other  factors 
of  that  civilization. 

This  philosophy  is  the  result  of  a  slow  and  pro- 
gressive development,  and  it  follows  the  general 
trend  of  western  civilization.  The  doctrinal  fer- 
mentation, rather  slow  in  its  beginning,  becomes  in- 
tensified in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  as 
the  social  and  political  structure  is  taking  its  feudal 

274 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  275 

form;  and  it  reaches  its  most  fruitful  period  just 
as  the  distinctly  mediaeval  mode — of  life  and  of 
thought  and  of  feeling — is  revealing  itself  clearly 
in  every  department  of  human  activity.  This  great 
philosophical  system  reflects  the  unifying  tenden- 
cies of  the  time:  its  influence  is  cosmopolitan;  its 
optimism,  its  impersonality,  and  its  religious  ten- 
dencies place  it  in  accord  with  the  entire  civiliza- 
tion; and  its  doctrines  exert  a  profound  influence 
on  art  and  on  literature,  and  on  social  habits. 

As  scholastic  philosophy  is  the  work  of  western 
races,  it  is  likewise  an  original  product.  In  it  the 
western  peoples  reproduce,  to  be  sure,  the  prob- 
lems of  the  Greek  and  the  Oriental  worlds.  But 
the  solutions  of  these  problems  are  cast  in  a  new 
mould,  they  are  imbued  with  a  new  mentality. 
Herein  lies  the  secret  of  the  wonderful  growth  and 
expansion  of  the  scholastic  philosophy  in  the  West. 

Seeing  that  the  peoples  of  the  West  were  con- 
stantly preoccupied  with  it,  there  is  little  wonder 
that  this  philosophy  should  have  played  a  part  in 
moulding  philosophical  temperament ;  that  it  should 
have  given  them  an  intellectual  bent,  a  specific  turn 
of  mind.  We  need  not  be  surprised  then  to  find, — 
in  that  unique  period  of  history  when  the  minds  of 
the  various  European  peoples  were  taking  on  their 
several  casts, — the  development  of  certain  general 
characteristics,  whose  influence  survived  in  philos- 
ophy after  the  thirteenth  century,  and  even  the 
whole  Middle  Ages. 


276  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

Economic  forms,  political  organization,  structure 
of  social  classes,  artistic  culture, — these  all  disap- 
pear, or  are  transformed ;  indeed,  by  the  end  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  these  elements  of  the  civiliza- 
tion have  lost  their  distinctly  mediaeval  signifi- 
cance. But  moral  and  philosophical  temperaments 
endure,  because  they  belong  to  the  deeper  lying- 
emanations  of  human  spirit.  In  the  individual 
man,  the  bodily  temperament,  which  depends  upon 
physiological  conditions,  persists  throughout  his  en- 
tire life.  Similarly,  in  a  group  of  individuals  the 
mental  temperament,  which  finds  its  support  in 
common  ideals,  both  intellectual  and  moral,  sur- 
vives in  the  race.  Thus,  the  habits  of  honor  and 
courtesy,  under  the  combined  influence  of  Church 
and  feudal  society,  were  transmitted  through  suc- 
ceeding generations  as  staple  realities, — which  we 
find  even  today  in  our  modern  conscience.  In  like 
manner,  the  philosophical  temperament  of  the 
thirteenth  century, — I  mean  the  setting  in  opera- 
tion of  certain  methods  and  doctrines — entered  into 
the  modern  epoch  and  even  now  directs  our  mode 
of  thought.  Indeed,  scholastic  philosophy  set  in 
operation  three  main  doctrines, — which  may  also  be 
called  methods — which  have  become  our  common 
approach  to  problems  and  their  solutions. 

II 

The  first  of  these  doctrines  lays  emphasis  upon 
the  worth  of  the  individual,  or  person,  as  the  only 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  277 

human  reality.  Scholastic  philosophy,  being  a 
pluralistic  conception  of  the  world,  makes  of  each 
man  an  autonomous  agent,  having  a  body  and  an 
intelligence  and  a  will  and  a  liberty  all  his  own. 
Each  hmuan  individual  possesses  abilities  which 
give  to  him  as  a  representative  of  the  race  a  purely 
personal  power  of  action;  and  this  inequality  of 
faculties  explains  the  several  capacities  of  various 
individuals  for  artistic  or  scientific  or  professional 
or  public  life.  The  human  individual  has  a  right 
to  personal  happiness  and  is  called  after  death  to 
enjoy  personal  blessedness.  He  is  protected 
against  the  state,  or  the  group,  by  a  whole  system 
of  intangible  rights.^  Accordingly,  the  philosophy 
of  the  thirteenth  century  is  opposed  to  everything 
that  resembles  the  subjugation  of  one  man  to  an- 
other. For  the  same  reason,  it  exhibits  a  profound 
dislike  for  monism  and  pantheism;  it  was  at  great 
pains,  and  this  cannot  be  too  strongly  emphasized, 
to  eliminate  every  pantheistic  tendency  from  its 
teaching.  Indeed  it  developed  a  horror  for  any 
doctrine  which  fuses  in  one  sole  being  some  or  all 
beings, — in  particular,  which  makes  all  men  parts 
or  becomings  of  a  great  whole,  of  one  Being,  and 
which  therefore  suppresses  their  individuality. 

This  doctrine,  that  the  individual  alone  is  sub- 
stantial reality,  and  alone  has  real  value  in  the  uni- 
verse, is  of  course  Aristotelian  in  origin.  It  is 
written  on  the  first  page  of  his  Metaphysics,  that 

1  Cf.  chs.  IX  and  X. 


278  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

splendid  book  of  common-sense  which  has  nour- 
ished the  thought  of  men  for  two  thousand  years. 
But  with  their  special  concern  for  the  natural 
equality  of  human  beings,  the  scholastics  went 
much  further  than  did  Aristotle.  While  he  stated 
that  men  are  naturally  unlike,  and  that  nature 
made  freemen  of  some  and  slaves  of  others,  the 
scholastics  regarded  slavery  and  serfdom  as  con- 
ventional,— not  as  natural.  And  we  may  be  sure 
that  if  this  turn  of  thought — a  turn  toward  en- 
hanced value  of  the  individual — had  not  been  in 
accord  with  the  deepest  aspirations  of  the  mediaeval 
civilization  (in  the  peoples  who  were  its  supreme 
representatives),  it  would  never  have  found  en- 
trance into  their  marrow,  and  into  their  blood. 
For,  the  western  minds  took  only  what  suited  them, 
— whether  from  Aristotle  or  Plato  or  Augustine  or 
Avicenna  or  Averroes — and  they  took  it  because  it 
suited  them. 

Nothing  is  more  false  than  the  judgment,  which 
finds  credit  among  so  many  historians,  that  one 
must  await  the  Renaissance  to  see  human  person- 
ality appraised  at  its  true  worth.  There  are  few 
philosophers  who  have  accentuated  the  metaphysi- 
cal, the  psychological,  the  moral,  and  the  social 
value  of  the  individual  so  much  as  did  the  schol- 
astics. And  just  as  the  thirteenth  century  is  a 
century  of  striking  personalities,  it  is  also  a  cen- 
tury of  discussions  on  all  the  problems  which  the 
question  of  personality  raises. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  279 

There  is  a  second  doctrine  which  also  involves 
the  philosophical  mentality,  and  which  is  closely 
connected  with  that  which  we  have  just  exposited. 
This  is  intellectualism,  or  the  royal  rule  of  reason 
in  man,  and  in  all  that  concerns  human  life.  It 
introduces  the  supremacy  of  reason  into  all  depart- 
ments of  human  activity.^  Thomas  Aquinas  and 
Duns  Scotus  are  its  striking  representatives;  but 
it  is  also  found  though  in  a  lesser  degree,  in  all  of 
the  scholastic  philosophers. 

It  is  because  the  dominant  philosophy  of  the 
thirteenth  century  was  an  intellectual  philosophy, 
that  it  promoted  a  love  of  clearness  and  precision; 
that  it  struggled  against  the  perplexing  vagueness 
of  Arabian  mysticism;  that  it  introduced  into  dis- 
cussions an  atmosphere  of  precision  and  exactness 
which  exercised  on  the  formation  of  the  developing 
minds  the  most  beneficent  influence.  It  is  to  this 
mental  discipline  that  the  philosophical  Latin  of 
the  masters  owes  its  pliability, — and  to  the  same 
source  the  modern  languages  are  indebted  for  large 
portions  of  their  vocabularies.^*  We  have  already 
seen  how  this  intellectualism  and  love  of  clarity  are 
revealed  in  the  most  important  forms  of  thirteenth 
century  culture.^'' 

But,  in  addition  to  individualism  and  intellec- 
tualism, there  is  a  third  deep  lying  character  which 

2  Cf.  ch.  VIII. 

2a  Cf.  above,  p.  176. 

2"  See  ch.  VII,  v. 


280  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVH.IZATION 

enters  into  the  temperament  of  those  who  framed 
and  developed  scholastic  philosophy.  And  this  is 
their  spirit  of  moderation, — a  moderation  revealed 
in  considered  choice.  Their  philosophy  is  the  via 
media  between  the  views  of  Plato  and  of  Aristotle ; 
it  tempers  the  naturalism  of  the  latter  with  the 
ideaUsm  of  the  former.  Thus  the  equilibrium  which 
appears  in  all  the  social  forces  of  that  age  manifests 
itself  in  their  dominant  philosophy. 

We  have  seen^  how  scholastic  metaphysics  is  a 
dynamic  philosophy;  but  its  dynamic  character  is 
moderate, — because  the  form  or  the  principle  of 
any  given  perfection,  that  may  reside  in  each  be- 
ing, unfolds  in  matter.  It  gives  the  corporeal 
world  an  evolutionary  interpretation;  but  this  is  a 
mitigated  evolution,  since  it  does  not  apply  to  the 
essences  themselves.  Thus,  for  example,  their  con- 
ception of  evolution  combines  efficient  causality 
and  finality;  it  furnishes  a  moderate  realistic  solu- 
tion, by  reconcihng  the  individual  nature  of  ex- 
ternal reaUties  with  the  abstract  character  of  our 
corresponding  concepts.* 

Scholastic  psychology  is  a  moderate  form  of 
idealism,  since  abstract  ideas  arise  in  sense-percep- 
tion,^ and  man  is  regarded  as  a  unitary  combination 
of  both  soul  and  body.  Similarly,  this  moderation 
finds  expression  in  their  ethics,  which  explains  the 

3  See  ch.  IX,  iii  and  iv. 
*  See  above,  pp.  59  and  181. 
5  Cf.  ch.  VIII,  i. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  281 

compatibility  of  duty  with  pleasure,  and  of  varia- 
ble moral  laws  with  its  unchangeable  principles.^ 
The  same  is  true  of  their  aesthetics,  since  the  beau- 
tiful is  at  once  subjective  and  objective.  And  again 
in  their  logic  this  same  spirit  appears,  as  they  estab- 
lish the  right  of  both  deduction  and  induction. 
This  moderation  appears  also  in  their  social  phi- 
losophy; for  sovereignty  in  the  state  belongs  both 
to  the  people  and  to  those  who  receive  power,  by 
delegation  from  the  people.^  Moderation  is  like- 
wise found  in  their  theory  of  progress  and  culture, 
which  takes  account  of  both  that  which  is  fixed  in 
human  nature  and  that  which  is  changeable  and 
perfectible.^ 

Thus,  in  all  of  its  reflection  scholasticism  seeks 
the  golden  mean  and  avoids  extremes ;  it  delights  in 
the  solution  that  mediates  between  opposing  views. 
For  all  these  reasons  it  is  a  profoundly  human  phi- 
losophy,— ^that  is,  a  philosophy  which  is  fitted  for 
beings  bound  by  corporeal  conditions  and  yet  also 
participating  in  the  spiritual  realm. 

The  importance  of  personality,  the  supremacy 
of  reason  and  of  clear  ideas,  a  sense  of  measure  and 
of  moderation  in  the  doctrines  which  constitute  it; 
these  three  characteristics  of  scholastic  philosophy 
are  in  perfect  accord  with  the  western  civilization 
of  the  thirteenth  century. 

6C/.  ch.  XII,  ii. 
7  Cf.  ch.  XII. 
8C/.  ch.  XI,  iii. 


282  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

III 

And  now  we  must  consider  a  further  fact — one 
of  central  importance.  This  civihzation  is  above 
all  the  product  of  French  influence;  France  is  the 
centre  from  which  it  casts  its  light  everywhere.^ 
From  this  angle,  it  is  interesting  to  note  how  the 
masters  of  scholastic  philosophy,  those  who  brought 
it  to  its  full  development  and  who  affixed  to  it  the 
imprint  of  their  genius,  were  all  educated  in  France, 
— whether  French  or  Italian  or  English  or  Flem- 
ish, or  Walloon.  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Bonaven- 
ture  belong  to  great  Italian  families ;  Alexander  of 
Hales,  Duns  Scotus,  William  of  Occam,  and  many 
more,  are  Anglo-Celts;  Gerard  of  Abbeville,  Wil- 
liam of  Auvergne,  William  of  Auxerre  belong  to 
France;  Henry  of  Ghent,  Siger  of  Courtrai  are 
natives  of  Flanders;  Godfrey  of  Fontaines  is  of 
the  nobility  of  Liege.  All  of  these  masters  met  in 
Paris,  where  they  resided  and  taught ;  and  they  are 
therefore  French  by  education.  Scholastic  philos- 
ophy in  the  thirteenth  century  is  even  more  a  sys- 
tem of  Gallicae  Sententiae  than  it  was  in  the  time 
of  Adelard  of  Bath.^^ 

On  the  other  hand,  the  role  of  the  Germans  is 
surprisingly  negligible.  The  only  personality  of 
note  that  comes  from  beyond  the  Rhine  is  Swabian, 
Albert  the  Great,  Count  of  Bollstadt.  His  contri- 
bution to  scholastic  philosophy  is  deserving  of  the 

9  See  chs.  II,  ii;  III,  i;  IV,  ii,  iii;  V,  iv. 

10  Cf.  above,  p.  41. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  283 

closest  attention;  but  his  services  are  of  a  very  spe- 
cial kind.  Albert  the  Great  was  an  indefatigable 
compiler  of  texts,  a  tireless  commentator,  an  ob- 
server of  facts,  an  excellent  encyclopedist;  but  he 
was  not  a  profound  philosopher/^ 

I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  that  the  Germans  had 
no  share  in  the  philosophy  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury; for  they  produced  some  men  whose  thought 
is  of  the  greatest  significance  in  respect  to 
civilization.  But  their  philosophy  is  not  scholastic 
philosophy,  as  we  have  been  at  pains  to  outline  it 
in  these  pages.  Their  system  of  thought  contained 
seeds  which  were  foreign  to  the  scholastic  genius; 
and  therein  are  found  the  beginnings  of  their  later 
deepest  aspirations. 

This  contrast  between  the  two  types  of  mind  is 
both  striking  and  instructive.  We  may  therefore 
profitably  consider  it  more  closely  in  concluding 
our  study. 

IV 

What  is  this  philosophy  to  which  the  Germans  so 
generally  gave  preference  ?  To  understand  the  full 
significance  of  this  question,  it  is  necessary  to  con- 
sider the  non-scholastic  philosophies  of  the  thir- 
teenth century. 

11  Cf.  Schneider,  "Beitrage  zur  Psychologie  Alberts  des  Grossen," 
Baiimker's-B et7ra^e,  IV,  5,  1903.  Albert  in  de  animaUbus  is  fond 
of  distinguishing  the  Germani  and  the  Galli.  Cf.  H.  J.  Stadler,  Al- 
bertus  Magnus  de  animalibus  L.  XXVI.  BsLumker's-Beitrdge,  XV- 
XVI,  1916  and   1921.     Incices,  verbis  Galli,  Germania,  Germani. 


284  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

It  should  be  stated  at  once  that  we  must  disre- 
gard the  unusual;  for  our  study  is  one  of  general 
tendencies.  In  that  century,  which  was  so  rich  in 
important  personalities  there  were  certain  isolated 
but  brilliant  thinkers,  who  swept  the  philosophic 
sky  in  meteor-like  fashion, — leaving  little  trace  of 
real  influence  on  their  environment.  Roger  Bacon 
is  perhaps  the  most  fascinating  of  these  men.  But 
while  he  was  far  beyond  his  day  in  all  matters 
touching  mathematics  and  natural  science,  he  fell 
just  as  far  behind  in  his  view  of  philosophy  itself, — 
as  mere  apologetics  in  furthering  religion.  Thus 
he  represents  a  twofold  anachronism, — not  only  in 
science,  but  in  philosophy  as  well!  Hence,  how- 
ever interesting  this  personality  of  the  thirteenth 
century  may  be,  he  remains  none  the  less  an  ex- 
ception, and  deserves  only  a  secondary  place  in  our 
study. 

Aside  from  scholastic  philosophy,  two  principal 
currents  of  thought  manifest  themselves, — namely, 
latin  Averroism  and  Neo-Platonism.  These  are  all 
the  more  marked  by  the  upheaval  which  they  occa- 
sioned; nevertheless,  in  contrast  with  the  great 
river  of  scholasticism,  they  are  really  mere  rivulets. 
The  first  emerges  suddenly ;  but  it  disappears  grad- 
ually from  view,  in  the  fifteenth  century, — like  a 
stream  which  sinks  into  some  subterranean  channel. 
The  second,  on  the  other  hand,  arose  slowly,  but  it 
widened  its  channel  and  deepened  its  current;  and, 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  285 

as  it  did  so,  it  carried  with  it  the  German  genius. 
Let  us  consider  each  of  these  in  turn. 

Latin  Averroism  differs  from  scholastic  philos- 
ophy as  the  Gothic  cathedral  differs  from  the  Ara- 
bian mosque, — and  not  as  the  Cathedral  of  Amiens 
differs  from  that  of  Chartres.  The  conflict  be- 
tween the  one  and  the  other  presents  two  distinct 
conceptions  of  the  world  and  of  life,  two  systems 
of  metaphysics  and  of  psychology. 

The  researches  of  Mandonnet  have  served  to  en- 
rich our  acquaintance  with  the  origin  and  nature  of 
these  Averroistic  doctrines.^^  That  they  appeared 
at  Paris  about  1256,  and  that  between  1260  and 
1270  they  were  the  source  of  much  disturbance  to 
the  Faculty  of  Arts  of  the  University,  are  now 
clearly  established  facts.  In  the  philosophic  duel 
which  then  was  waged  between  scholasticism  and 
Latin  Averroism,  there  appeared  Thomas  Aquinas 
as  the  champion  of  the  former,  and  Siger  of  Bra- 
bant, a  Fleming  who  championed  the  latter  and 
gathered  about  him  a  small  number  of  admiring 
followers.  To  combat  the  Averroistic  doctrines, 
all  the  scholastics  united  in  an  alliance,  both  of- 
fensive and  defensive, — including  also  such  men  as 
Roger  Bacon.^^ 

12  See  P.  Mandonnet,  "Siger  de  Brabant  et  I'Averroisme  latin 
au  XIII°>«  s."  in  Les  Philosophes  Beiges,  vol.  VI  (1911)  and  VII 
(1908),  Louvain. 

13  Thomas  Aquinas  wrote  a  special  treatise  entitled  De  imitate  in- 
tellectus  contra  Averroistas.  Duns  Scotus  speaks  of  Averroes  as 
"maledictus  ille  Averroes"  (Oxon.  IV,  d.  43,  q.  2,  no.  5). 


286  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

In  this  contest  we  may  confine  our  attention  to 
two  principal  doctrines,  which  the  scholastics  never 
tired  of  attacking, — namely,  the  theory  of  one 
single  soul  for  all  mankind,  and  the  theory  of  the 
twofold  truth.  The  former  has  to  do  with  an  im- 
portant aspect  of  psychology,  and  it  has  signifi- 
cant bearings  on  religion;  the  latter  involves  the 
relation  of  philosophy  and  theology.  We  shall 
treat  briefly  of  each. 

This  theory  of  the  single  intelligence  in  men 
teaches,  that  all  human  thoughts  occur  by  virtue  of 
a  single  intelligence,  which  belongs  to  the  race, — 
and,  as  substance,  remains  in  a  state  of  isolation 
from  the  individual  human  beings.  Our  personal 
thoughts  arise,  when  our  individual  sense  percep- 
tions and  imaginations  are  illuminated  by  this 
single  intelligence,  by  virtue  of  its  momentary  ac- 
tion in  union  with  the  sensitive  soul  (anima  sensi- 
bilis)  in  each  of  us.  Furthermore — and  as  a  con- 
sequence of  this — the  soul  of  mankind  is  alone  en- 
dowed with  immortality,  and  the  soul  or  form  that 
is  individual  in  each  of  us  passes  away  at  death. 
Men  die;  the  soul  of  the  race  is  immortal. 

Such  a  doctrine  runs  counter  to  any  deep  sense 
of  human  personality,  by  minimizing  the  individ- 
ual aspects  of  thinking  and  of  religious  experience, 
— and  by  eliminating  personal  immortality.  The 
bitter  struggle  of  the  scholastics  against  this  doc- 
trine is  therefore  readily  intelligible  as  a  register- 
ing of  their  profound  yearning  for,  and  emphasis 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  287 

upon,  the  value  of  human  personality.  Traini's" 
portrayal  of  the  defeat  of  Averroes  (and  the  other 
productions  inspired  by  Traini's  great  work)  re- 
flect also  this  same  sense  of  personal  worth  em- 
bedded in  the  wider  complex  of  that  civilization, 
society  at  large,  of  which  philosophy  is  a  part. 

The  theory  of  the  twofold  truth^^  asserts,  that  a 
doctrine  may  be  true  in  philosophy  but  false  in 
theology,  and  conversely.  This  pragmatic  doctrine 
enabled  the  harmonizing  with  Catholic  dogma  of 
ideas  which  were  utterly  foreign  to  its  spirit  and 
subversion  of  its  teachings.  Setting  timth  over 
against  itself,  it  contravenes  the  principle  of  contra- 
diction,— indispensable  not  only  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  theology,  but  also  to  the  principles  of  moral 
and  social  order.  The  deepest  lying  tendencies  of 
that  civilization  and  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
their  logic  and  theology  are  alike  incompatible  with 
the  theory  of  the  twofold  truth.  It  was  just  this 
incompatibility  which  lead  to  its  formal  condemna- 
tion in  1277  (as  is  clear  from  the  beginning  of  that 
interesting  document)  ;''  and  the  same  is  evident 
in  the  work  of  Thomas  against  the  Averroists. 
Hence  one  can  understand  the  intensity  of  the 
struggle  which  the  doctrine  aroused  in  the  schools. 

Latin  Averroism  is  not  a  product  of  occidental 
thought,  but  an  exotic  importation.    Its  protagon- 

14  0/.  above,  pp.  84  and  154. 

i'^  Cf.  above,  p.  165. 

16  Denifle-Chatelain,  Chartul.  Univers.  Paris.     Vol.  I,  p.  543. 


288  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

ists  proclaimed  the  philosophical  infallibility  of 
Averroes,  and  it  was  their  constant  concern  to 
avoid  betraying  him.  The  motives  which  prompted 
this  occidental  affiliation  with  the  oriental  interpre- 
tation of  Aristotehan  naturalism  remain  a  matter 
of  conjecture.  It  may  have  been  sincerity  or  con- 
viction; or,  it  may  have  been  the  desire  to  justify 
the  relaxation  of  faith  and  of  morals,  as  Mandonnet 
believes.  But,  in  any  event,  it  is  certain  that  Latin 
Averroism  did  not  penetrate  the  mass  of  the  intel- 
lectuals. At  Paris  it  was  the  creed  of  a  small 
group ;  and  when  the  condemnation  of  1277  checked 
the  professional  career  of  Siger  of  Brabant,  its  ex- 
pansion was  arrested, — though  it  did  not  entirely 
disappear.  Indeed,  at  the  court  of  Frederic  II, 
Eang  of  The  Sicilies,  Averroism  scored  a  local 
triumph.  But  that  court  reflected  the  spirit  of  the 
Orient  far  more  than  it  did  that  of  the  Occident; 
Frederic  II  being  an  Oriental  prince  both  in  caste 
and  in  manners. 

If  Averroism  did  not  penetrate  the  spirit  of  men 
of  learning  in  the  western  world,  still  less  did  it 
penetrate  into  the  channels  of  ordinary  life."  Be- 
ing, as  a  whole  J  alien  to  occidental  civilization,  it  is 
necessary  to  seek  elsewhere  the  influence  of  the 
Averroistic  doctrines  upon  the  civilization  which 
we  have  studied.  First  of  all,  it  kindled  an  atmo- 
sphere of  conflict;  and  thus  it  obliged  scholastic 

17  Alphand^ry,  "Y-a-t-il  eu   un   Averroisme   populaire   aux  XIII'* 
et  XI V"  s.?"     {Revue  de  I'histoire  des  religions,  1901,  p.  SO"*.) 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  289 

philosophy  to  formulate  its  position  with  greater 
precision,  and  it  united  on  fundamentals,  those 
who  otherwise  were  divided.  Furthermore,  a  few 
detached  theories  of  Averroism,  by  virtue  of  their 
inherent  force,  continued  their  influence, — an  in- 
fluence which  increased  during  the  centuries  that 
followed.  For  instance,  the  doctrine  of  the  twofold 
truth  gradually  undermined  the  Catholic  faith ;  and 
certain  Averroists  of  the  fourteenth  century  lent 
their  support  to  the  legists,  who  were  engaged  in 
subordinating  the  Papacy  to  the  State.  Finally, 
certain  elements  of  Averroism  contributed  to  rein- 
force another  current  of  ideas  born  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  Neo-Platonic  current  which  we 
must  now  consider. 


Occidental  Neo-Platonism  could  no  more  com- 
pete in  influence  with  the  scholastic  philosophy  of 
the  thirteenth  century  than  could  Latin  Averroism. 
The  doctrines  of  emanation  and  the  vaporous  mys- 
ticism of  Proclus, — especially  as  contained  in  the 
Liber  de  Causis — were  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
temper  of  scholasticism.  But  Neo-Platonism  suc- 
ceeded in  alluring  a  group  of  German  philosophers ; 
and  in  view  of  its  contribution  to  the  tendencies 
which  developed  in  Germany,  especially  during  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  its  study  is  of 
the  greatest  historical  interest.  It  is  not  within  the 
scope  of  the  present  work  to  examine  in  detail  the 


290  PHILOSOPHY  AND    CIVILIZATION 

Neo-Platonic  movement  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
which  would  involve  a  separate  study;  we  shall 
therefore  touch  upon  it  only,  and  give  in  outline 
certain  general  results. 

The  first  translators  of  Neo-Platonic  works — 
such  as  Robert  Grosseteste,  Alfredus  Anglicus, 
and  William  of  Moerbeke — had  no  sympathy  with 
Neo-Platonism,  other  than  the  special  fondness 
which  every  translator  of  that  age  felt  for  the  work 
which  he  translated.  And  the  same  may  be  said 
of  Albert  the  Great  as  commentator,  for,  in  com- 
mentating Aristotle  and  Neo-Platonic  writings,  re- 
spectively, he  inclines  toward  each  in  turn. 

But  in  the  second  half  of  the  thirteenth  century  a 
group  of  German  philosophers  turn  deliberatively 
to  certain  Neo-Platonic  theses.  These  men  are 
contemporaries  of,  or  immediate  successors  to, 
Albert  the  Great;  and  several  of  them,  hke  Albert 
himself,  are  dignitaries  of  the  Dominican  order  in 
Germany.  I  refer  to  Ulric  of  Strasburg,  the  im- 
mediate disciple  of  Albert,  to  the  Silesian  Witelo, 
to  Thierry  of  Freiburg  (in  Germany),  to  Berthold 
of  Mosburg,  perhaps  a  disciple  of  Albert,  and  to 
Meister  Eckhart,  the  most  celebrated  of  all.  These 
thinkers  succeed  in  coordinating  the  whole  of  their 
doctrines,  in  organic  unity,  on  the  basis  of  Neo- 
Platonic  thought.  In  different  degrees,  their  works 
combine  the  emanational  view  of  reality,  the  ten- 
dency to  make  knowledge  arise  in  the  soul  indepen- 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  291 

dent  of  the  external  world,  and  the  mystic  impulse 
toward  the  infinite. 

VI 

Now,  if  we  confine  our  enquiry  to  Thierry  of 
Freiburg  and  Meister  Eckhart — the  striking  per- 
sonalities of  the  group — it  is  very  remarkable  that 
these  men  (whose  works  are  now  published  or  well 
known) ^^  part  deliberately  with  the  scholastic  phi- 
losophy,— the  philosophy  which  dominates  the 
minds  of  Neo-Latins  and  the  Anglo-Celts,  and  with 
which  the  German  thinkers  are  thoroughly  familiar. 
Thus,  Thierry  of  Freiburg  says  expressly,  that  he 
wished  to  separate  himself  from  those  who  taught 
the  common  philosophy, — from  the  communiter  lo- 
quentes — and  he  boasts  of  it.^^    The  same  sense  of 

18  I  here  give  the  works  of  these  men.  The  bibliography,  at  the 
end  of  these  lectures,  may  be  consulted  for  details.  Ulric 
of  Strasburg  is  the  author  of  a  treatise  entitled  De  Summo  Bono, 
of  which  brief  fragments  have  been  published  (c/.  Ueberweg-Baum- 
gartner,  op.  cit.,  p.  4-62).  Witelo  wrote  a  work  on  Optics  (De  Per- 
spectiva),  and  he  is  probably  the  author  of  the  treatise  De  Intelli- 
gentils.  The  works  of  Thierry  of  Freiburg  have  been  published  by 
Krebs.  Berthold  of  Mosburg  wrote  a  commentary  on  the  Elementa 
Theologica  of  Proclus.  According  to  Dyroff  ("Ueber  Heinrich  und 
Dietrich  von  Freiburg,"  Philos.  Jhrb.,  1915,  pp.  55-63),  the  Henry  of 
Freiburg  ("de  Uriberch"), — who  probably  belonged  to  the  same 
family  as  Thierry  of  Freiburg,  and  lived  at  the  same  time — translated 
into  German  verse  the  mystical  and  Neo-Platonic  discourses  of 
Thierry  of  Freiburg.  The  German  works  of  Eckhart  have  been 
published  by  Pfeiffer  (1857),  and  fragments  of  his  Latin  works  by 
Denifle  (Archiv  f.  Litt.  u.  Kirchengesch.  d.  Mittelalt.,  1886). 

IS  See  above,  Sententia  communis,  p.  83.     Cf.  E.  Krebs,  "Meister 


292  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

difference  appears  in  Eckhart,  who  says  concerning 
some  of  his  own  doctrines :  primo  aspectu  monstruo- 
sa,  duhia  aut  falsa  apparebunt,  secus  autem  si  soh 
lerter  et  studio sius  pertractantur,"'^^  Both  of  these 
thinkers  take  over  certain  characteristics  and  ten- 
dencies which  are  diametrically  opposed  to  the  ten- 
dency of  thought  of  the  Neo-Latins  and  the  Anglo- 
Celts,  which  we  have  pointed  out. 

The  first  character  is  a  lack  of  clearness  in 
thought  and  of  precision  in  language.  Although 
he  uses  the  fixed  terminology  of  the  scholastics,  the 
celebrated  Eckhart  is  an  obscure  thinker, — "Ein 
unklarer  Denker"  said  Denifle,^^  his  best  historian 
and  himself  a  German.  To  the  clear  ideas  and  pre- 
cise expressions  of  scholastic  philosophy,  Neo-^ 
Platonic  Germans  oppose  ambiguous  theories  and 
misleading  comparisons.  Their  thoughts  do  not 
seek  the  clear  light,  and  they  are  satisfied  with  ap- 
proximations. Their  imaginations  delight  in  an- 
alogies, notably  in  the  comparison  of  emanation 
with  radiation  or  flowing,  by  which  they  represent 
creation  as  a  stream  of  water  which  flows  from  the 
divine  source  and  as  a  light  which  shines  forth  from 
the  luminous  hearth  of  the  Divinity.  Thierry 
speaks  of  the  creative  act  by  which  God  produces 
Intelligences,  as  an  ebullitio,  an  interior  transfusion 

Dietrich,  s.  Leben,  s.  Werke,  s.  Wissenschaft,"  Baiimker's-Bei^ra^re, 
V,  5-6,  1906,  pp.  150,  151. 

20  Denifle,  Meister  Eckharts  lateinische  Schriften,  p.  535. 

21  Edit.,  Denifle,  p.  459. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  293 

by  which  His  nature,  sovereignly  blessed  and  fer- 
tile, pours  itself  out.^^ 

This  brings  us  to  a  second  characteristic,  very 
much  more  important,  in  which  the  philosophy  of 
the  Germans  of  the  thirteenth  century  is  opposed 
to  ^scholastic  philosophy.  This  is  the  leaning  to- 
wards pantheism,  which  unites  men  with  God  even 
to  the  point  of  fusion;  the  carrying  of  the  soul  for 
commerce  with  the  Divinity,  a  mystic  communion 
so  intimate  that  every  distinction  between  God  and 
the  soul  disappears.  In  the  whole  group  of  Ger- 
man thinkers  of  the  thirteenth  century  it  is  Eck- 
hart  who  shows  this  tendency  most  strongly,  and 
it  is  also  he  who  exerts  the  greatest  influence  upon 
the  German  mind.  He  boldly  teaches  that  the  ex- 
istence of  God  is  also  the  very  eooistence  of  crea- 
tures.^^ In  this  he  differs  totally  with  the  schol- 
astic philosophy,  which  gives  to  each  person  (as 
to  each  individual  being)  not  only  his  own  essence, 
but  an  eooistence  distinct  from  the  existence  of  every 
other  being,  and  also  from  that  of  God.^*  He  thus 
maintains  a  fusion  of  God  and  His  creatiu^es,  since 
the  same  single  existence  envelops  them  both.  One 
understands,  therefore,  how  he  can  say  that  God  is 
like  an  infinite  sphere,  whose  centre  is  everywhere 

2^  Edit.,  Krebs,  pp.  129  and  133. 

23  Ens  tantum  unum  et  Deus  est.  Extra  primam  causam  nichil 
est;  quod  enim  est  extra  causam  primam,  deum  scilicet,  est  extra  esse, 
quia  deus  est  esse.    Edit.,  Denifle,  p.  549. 

24  See  above,  pp.  195,  218. 


294  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

and  whose  circumference  is  nowhere,^^  and  that 
every  creature  has  a  lasting  hunger  and  thirst  for 
God:  qui  edimt  me  adhuc  esuriunt.  The  animals, 
he  writes,  cease  to  nourish  their  young  as  soon  as 
these  have  their  fill;  but  beings  are  insatiable  of 
God,  for  they  exist  in  Him."^® 

On  the  basis  of  this  metaphysics,  Eckhart  elabo- 
rates a  mysticism  wherein  the  soul  contracts  a  union 
with  God  which  would  bridge  the  gulf  between  in- 
finite and  finite.  The  description  which  he  makes 
of  this  mystic  union  makes  one  tremble.  That 
which  God  loves  in  us  is  Himself,  His  very  own 
existence;  the  soul  is  the  sanctuary  of  God  where 
He  finds  Himself!  But  God  does  not  enter  into 
the  sanctuary  unless  the  soul  is  prepared,  it  must 
have  renounced  everything, — not  only  all  external 
things,  but  also  its  very  self,  its  knowledge,  its  will, 
its  feelings,  its  strivings,  its  personality.  In  short, 
God  enters  in  only  if  the  soul  is  in  a  state  of  abso- 
lute renunciation,  of  complete  passivity,  {abge- 
schiedenheit) ,^^  And  then  the  miracle  takes  place; 
God  discloses  the  unity  and  the  infinity  of  His  na- 
ture. The  soul  is  transported  into  the  silent  desert 
where  there  is  neither  effort,  nor  doubt,  nor  faith: 
where,  in  order  to  know,  there  is  no  further  need 
of  images,  of  similitudes,  of  interpretation,  of  writ- 
ing, or  of  dogma.    God  is  found  in  me;  He  is  not 

25  76,U,  p.  57L 

26  Ibid.,  p.  582. 

27  Edit.,  PfeifFer,  pp.  650  flf. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  295 

complete  without  my  soul.^^  As  I  am  immanent  in 
the  being  of  God,  He  accomplishes  all  His  works 
by  me.  God  is  made  man  in  order  that  man  may 
become  God.  This  is  the  mystic  deification;  it  is 
the  return  of  man  into  the  infinite,  and  with  man 
the  .return  into  God  of  all  creation,  the  iTnarpot^  of 
Proclus.^^ 

It  is  indeed  difficult  to  clear  such  a  doctrine  of 
the  charge  of  pantheism, — however  Eckhart  may 
protest  against  such  interpretation  of  his  doctrine. 
But  here  again,  as  in  another  connection,^^  we  must 
bear  in  mind  that  the  intention  of  a  man  rests  with 
his  conscience ;  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  doctrine 
as  expressed, — which  is  what  it  is. 

Thierry  of  Freiburg  writes  against  the  panthe- 
ism of  the  Liber  de  Causis  and  the  Elementa  The- 
ologica  of  Proclus.  But  he  shares  that  deductive 
method  a  outrance,  which  was  borrowed  from  Neo- 
Platonism,  in  common  with  Eckhart  and  Ulric  of 
Strasburg  and  Witelo  and  the  whole  German 
group.  This  leads  us  to  a  further  characteristic 
of  the  trend  of  thought  which  we  are  studying:  the 

2&Ibid.,  pp.  382,  458,  passim. 

29  In  contrast  with  the  above,  the  truth  of  Henry  Adams'  state- 
ment appears,  when  he  says  of  the  mystics  of  St.  Victor  in  the 
twelfth  century:  "The  French  mystics  showed  in  their  mysticism 
the  same  French  reasonableness;  the  sense  of  measure,  of  logic,  of 
science;  the  allegiance  to  form;  the  transparency  of  thought,  which 
the  French  mind  has  always  shown  on  its  surface  like  a  shell  of 
nacre."    Op.  cit.,  p.  304. 

30  See  above,  p.  167. 


296  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

philosophy  of  the  Germans  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury lacks  the  moderation  and  equilibrium  which  is 
so  beautiful  a  triumph  of  scholastic  philosophy.  In 
proof  of  this  one  example  will  suffice.  Thus,  schol- 
astic method  starts  with  facts,  with  observation  of 
the  senses  and  the  testimony  of  consciousness, 
in  order  to  discover  the  role  of  general  notions 
and  the  operation  of  principles  or  laws.  It  is  only 
after  this  work  of  analysis  that  it  authorizes  its  de- 
duction of  all  reality  as  dependent  on  God.^^  The 
German  Neo-Platonism  of  the  thirteenth  century 
takes  the  opposite  course.  It  does  not  begin  with 
facts.  It  begins  with  the  notion  of  God,  or  even 
with  that  of  being  in  general,  and  traces  out  the 
emanation  of  all,  step  by  step.  Here  again  Eck- 
hart  represents  best  the  spirit  of  the  group.  No 
person  takes  more  delight  than  he  in  the  majestic 
tranquillity  and  impenetrable  mystery  of  the  Di- 
vinity; in  the  obscure  and  fathomless  abyss  of  its 
reality;  in  the  effusion  of  the  soul,  passive  and 
stripped  of  self,  in  that  ocean  of  reality.  Eckhart 
does  not  pause,  as  does  Bonaventure,  to  mark  the 
lower  stages  of  the  journey  of  the  soul  to  God;  his 
thought  leaps  to  God  Himself,  towards  the  Being 
which  alone  is  of  interest  to  him.  Thus,  in  the 
speculation  of  Eckhart  we  have  the  prototype  of 
that  strain  of  metaphysics  which  hurls  speculation 
with  dizzy  speed  into  the  abyss,  without  imposing 
on  itself  the  restraint  of  actual  experience. 

31  C/.  Ch.  IX,  vii. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  297 

This  lack  of  moderation,  which  affects  the  philo- 
sophical method  of  the  Germans,  affects  also  each 
of  their  metaphysical,  psychological,  and  moral  doc- 
trines. Moreover,  it  is  extended  by  Eckhart  to 
the  facts  of  religious  experience  and  the  interpre- 
tation of  dogma.  His  scorn  for  the  external  act, 
his  exaggeration  of  the  internal  aspect  of  religious 
experience,  the  small  place  which  he  gives  to  the 
authority  of  Scripture, — all  of  this  prepares  the 
way  for  the  Reformation,  to  be  sure;  but  it 
stands  in  great  contrast  with  the  dogmatic  and 
mystical  and  moral  theology  of  Thomas  of  Aquin, 

To  sum  up.  Endowment  of  the  personal  worth 
of  the  individual  with  metaphysical  support;  devo- 
tion to  clear  ideas  and  their  correct  expression; 
moderation  in  doctrine  and  observance  of  a  just 
mean  between  extremes;  the  combination  of  ex- 
perience and  deduction, — these  are  the  characteris- 
tics, or,  if  you  will,  the  tendencies,  of  the  scholastic 
philosophy  as  it  was  elaborated  by  Neo-Latins  and 
Anglo-Celts.  But,  in  the  Neo-Platonic  group  of 
German  thinkers  in  the  thirteenth  century,  all  of 
this  is  replaced  by  very  different  characteristics, — 
fascination  for  monism  and  pantheism ;  mystic  com- 
munion of  the  soul  with  Deity ;  craving  for  extreme 
deduction ;  predilection  for  the  study  of  Being,  and 
of  its  descending  steps;  aversion  to  clarified  intel- 
lectualism;  delight  in  examples  and  metaphors, 
which  are  misleading  and  equivocal;  and  above  all 
the  want  of  balanced  equilibrium,  in  exaggerating 
certain  aspects  and  doctrines  regardless  of  all  else. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


Epilogue 

i.  Influence  of  thirteenth  century  philosophical  systems  on 
later  thought  in  the  West.  ii.  Pedagogical  value  of  scholastic- 
ism for  the  history  of  modern  philosophy. 


The  unifying  ideas  of  the  thirteenth  century  had 
disappeared  by  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury. As  the  European  states  advanced  in  stabil- 
ity, the  spirit  of  nationalism  became  increasingly 
diversified.  The  University  of  Paris  lost  its  cos- 
mopolitan character,  as  a  centre  of  learning,  and 
became  simply  a  national  institution.  Further- 
more, the  authority  of  the  Popes  declined  in  the 
domain  of  politics.  Thus,  in  the  quickened  and 
complicating  course  of  events,  certain  specific  char- 
acteristics of  the  mediaeval  civilization  passed  out 
of  existence. 

But  the  philosophical  systems  of  the  Middle 
Ages  had  left  their  imprint  on  the  western  minds. 
The  contrasts  between  the  philosophers  of  Neo- 
Latin  and  Anglo-Celtic  extraction,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  philosophers  within  the  Germanic 
group,  on  the  other  hand,  survived  the  thirteenth 

298 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  299 

century.  Descartes  and  Locke  are  much  more  in- 
debted to  scholasticism  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed*/ and  the  Germans  have  good  reason  for  re- 
garding Meister  Eckhart  as  the  first  philosopher  in 
their  line. 

This  takes  us  back,  then  to  our  point  of  depar- 
ture. For,  it  justifies  our  view  of  the  thirteenth 
century  as  the  watershed  of  European  genius  in  its 
diverging  flow. 

II 

If  our  reflections  in  these  lectures  have  been  cor- 
rect, the  study  of  the  philosophic  systems  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  of  scholasticism  in  particular, 
must  take  on  new  meaning  and  value  for  all  those 
who  prize  the  western  mode  of  thought. 

Even  as  the  study  of  Greek  and  Latin  classics  is 
an  indispensable  preliminary  to  our  literary  cul- 
ture ;  and  as  the  study  of  antique  statuary  and  me- 
diaeval architecture  and  the  painting  of  the  Renais- 
sance possesses  inestimable  power  in  forming  the 
minds  of  our  future  sculptors,  architects,  and  paint- 
ers, and  conditions  the  very  flight  of  originality, — 
just  so  the  study  of  modern  philosophy  must  lean 
not  alone  upon  Greek  philosophy,  but  equally  on 

1  For  recent  works  on  the  indebtedness  of  later  thinkers  to 
mediaeval  thought,  see,  for  example:  E.  Gilson,  La  liberty  chez 
Descartes  et  la  theologie,  Paris,  1913.  E.  Krakowski,  Les  Sources 
medievales  de  la  philosophie  de  Locke,  Paris,  1915 — P.  Ramsay,'  Les 
doctrines  medievales  chez  Jean  Donne,  le  poHe-metaphysicien 
d'Angleterre,  Oxford,  1916. 


300  PHILOSOPHY  AND   CIVILIZATION 

the  conceptions  of  the  world  and  of  life  which 
formed  the  temperaments  of  our  very  own  ances- 
tors. We  are  closer  to  them  than  we  are  to  the 
Greeks;  and,  in  the  light  of  history,  the  study  of 
their  philosophy  appears  as  a  necessary  stage  in  our 
philosophical  education.^  Thus,  it  seems  contrary  to 
all  reason  to  ignore  that  age,  as  has  hitherto  been 
done  all  too  often.  We  must  really  "tras^erse 
the  scholastic  philosophy  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  if 
we  are  to  criticize  or  to  go  beyond  it. 

2  My  friend  and  colleague,  Professor  Horace  C.  Longwell  of 
Princeton  University  has  worked  out  these  ideas  in  detail,  inde- 
pendently and  some  years  ago;  he  intends  to  publish  the  paper. 


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BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


Histoire  de  la  PhUosopJiie  scolastique  da/ns  les  Pays-Bas 
et  la  Prmcipaute  de  Liege  (Louvain,  et  Alcan,  Paris, 
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INDEX  OF  NAMES* 


Abaelard,  1,  32,  40,  44,  48,  52,  53; 

Glossulae  super  Porphyrium,  58, 

59;   apologetic   method   of,   162; 

autobiography  of,  140;  and  He- 

loise,  35;  on  revelation,  164;  on 

universals,  58-59. 
Absalon  of  St.  Victor,  52. 
Accursius,  107. 
Adam  of  St.  Victor,  35. 
Adams,  Henry,  35,  104,  210,  295. 
Adelard   of   Bath,   40,  41,   47,  57, 

142,  282. 
Agricola,  7. 

Alan  of  Lille,  40,  52,  142,  174. 
Alberic  of  Rheims,  45. 
Albert   the  Great,   1,   73,   76,   173, 

283,  290. 
Alcher  of  Clair vaux,  143. 
Alexander  III  (Rolando  Bandinel- 

li),  44,  121. 
Alexander  of  Hales,  1,  64,  73,  76, 

82,  109,  130,  166,  282. 
Alexander  Neckham,  42. 
Alfarabi,  79. 
Alfred  Anglicus  (of  Sereschel),  73, 

289. 
Alphandery,  P.,  288. 
Alphonso,  X,  101. 
Altamira,  R.,  102. 
Anselm  of  Canterbury,  1,  3,  44,  48, 

52,  141,  164. 
Anselm  of  Laon,  40,  85. 
Ampere,   137. 
Antolin,  41. 

Antoninus  of  Florence,  122. 
Aristotle,   2,   11,   97   sq.,   128,   141, 


153  sq.,  181,  212,  280,  de  Anima, 
78;  Metaphysics,  78,  139;  Or- 
ganon,  45,  47,  70;  Physics,  78; 
Politics,  220  sq.,  249,  251,  256; 
actuality  and  potentiality,  200 
sq.,  astronomy,  112;  and  city 
state,  227  sq.,  definition  of  good, 
224,  divisions  of  philosophy,  in, 
91;  on  slavery,  278;  on  state  and 
society,  227  sqq.,  substance,  196. 

Augustine  (St.),  11,  141,  251,  278; 
De  Civitate  Dei,  115,  sq.,  126; 
Confessions,  140;  on  society,  227. 

Augustus,  127. 

Averroes,  79,  84,  139,  278,  288. 

Avicebron,  79,  195. 

Avicenna,  79,  174,  278. 

Bacon,   Francis,   3. 

Bacon,  Roger,  1,  64,  73,  77,  83,  129; 
Opus  Ma  jus,  139;  apologetics 
of,  164,  284;  astrology  of,  113; 
and  Averroism,  285,  character  of, 
78,  and  natural  science,  284. 

Baker,  E.,  104. 

Baumker's-Beitrage,  58,  128,  184, 
189,  222,  283,  292. 

Baldus,  232. 

Bandinelli  Rolando,  see  Alexander 
III. 

Barker,  E.,  237. 

Bartholomeus  Anglicus,  106. 

Baur,  L.,  96,  128. 

Baumgartner,  M.,  150. 

Bede  the  Venerable,  141, 

Benedict  (St.),  24  sq.,  147. 


*  I  want  to  express  my  thanks  to  my  pupil,  Mr.  J.  L.  Zimmerman, 
who  made  this  index. 

309 


310 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Bernard  of  Auvergne,  74. 
Bernard  of  Chartres,  45. 
Bernard   (St.),  31,  35. 
Berthold  of  Mosburg,  290  sq. 
Binder,  155. 
Boethius,  57,  78,  99. 
Boethius  the  Dacian,  73. 
Bonaventure,  1,  64,  73,  82  sq.,  109, 

129  sq.,  282,  296. 
Bourget,  Paul,  232. 
Bradwardine,  Thomas,  174. 
Brehier,  L.,  49. 
Bruneti^re,  176. 
Brunschvigg,  140. 
Buridan,  John,  186. 
Burleigh,  Walter,  73. 
Busse,  155. 

Caesar  of  Heisterbach,  156. 
Can  Grande  della  Scala,  158. 
Carlyle,  A.  J.,  56,  263. 
Catherine  of  Pisa,  154. 
Cavalcante,  Guido,   174. 
Chambon,  F.,  161. 
Charlemagne,  22,  117,  119,  121  sq. 
Chatelain  (see  Denifle-Chatelain). 
Chaucer,  37,  174. 
Cicero,  47,   146. 
Clerval,  47. 

Comte,  Auguste,  98,  127. 
Constantine  of  Carthage,  44. 

Dante,  114,  121  sq.;  Divine  Comedy, 
9,  105  sq.,  137,  166,  175,  190; 
Epistolae,  158;  Inferno,  94; 
Paradiso,  190;  de  Monarchia,  115 
sqq.,  129,  146,  174,  227  sq.,  232, 
242;  on  Aristotle,  97;  on  beauty, 
94;  and  Can  Grande  della  Scala, 
158;  on  the  divisions  of  philoso- 
phy, 129;  on  peace,  119;  principle 
of  parsimony  in,  110;  theory  of 
the  state  of,  115  sqq.,  227,  232, 
248;  on  tyranny,  248;  on  war, 
228. 

d'And61i,  Henri,  174. 

Denifle,  65,  161,  182,  291  sq. 

Denifle-Chatelain,  67,  169,  287. 


de  Meung,  Jean,  190. 

De  Poorter,  A.,  222. 

Descartes,  11,  154,  198,  299. 

Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  77. 

Dominic,   (St.),  74 

Donatus,  46,  93. 

Dover,  Richard,  '42. 

Duhem,  P.,  113. 

Duns  Scotus,  1,  73,  82  sq.,  109  sq., 
129  sq.,  144,  282,  285.  Grammati- 
ca  Speculativa,  93;  on  freedom, 
184;  the  good  and  martyrdom, 
185;  intuition  in,  183;  on  philos- 
ophy and  theology,  164;  principle 
of  parsimony  in,  110;  avoids  psy- 
chological determinism,  186. 

DyroflF,  A.,  291. 

Eckhart   (Meister),  182,  290  sqq.; 

293  sqq.;  296  sqq. 
Edward  I,  100,  102,  107,  157. 
Eleanor  of  Aquitaine,  20. 
Endres,  J.  A.,  222. 
Engelbert  of  Volkersdorf,  239. 
Etienne  of  Tournai,  33. 
Euclid,  47,  146. 

F6nelon,  8. 

Ferdinand  III,  100,  102. 

Ferdinand  of  Castile,  157. 

Era  Angelico,  76. 

Francis  (St.),  9,  11,  64,  74  sq.,  137. 

Frederic  Barbarossa,  103,  121. 

Frederic  II,  100,  103,  122,  157,  288. 

Fulbert,  45. 

Gauthier  of  Bruges,  73. 

Gauthier  of  Mortagne,  45. 

Gerard  of  Abbeville,  282. 

Gerbert,  43. 

Geyer,  B.,  58  sq. 

Gierke,  O.   (von)   120,  231  sq.,  239, 

250. 
Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  32,  41,  52  sq., 

58  sq.,  175,  182. 
Gilbert  of  Tournai,  222. 
Gilles   of   Lessines,   113. 
Gilles  of  Rome,  73,  222. 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


311 


Gillet,  84. 

Gilson,   E.,   299. 

Giotto,  158. 

Giuliani,  G.,  158. 

Godfrey  of  Fontaines,  71  sqq.,  96, 

186,  282. 
Goethe,  8  sq. 
Gozzoli,  84. 
Grabmann,  M.,  49,  51,  58,  T9,  128, 

163,  189,  221. 
Gratian,  107,  223. 
Gregory  VII  (Hildebrand)   16,  29, 

121    123. 
Grosseteste,   Robert,   74,   129,   151, 

290. 
Gui  of  Hainaut,  Count,  129. 
Gundissalinus,  Dominicus,  96,  128, 

143,  151. 

Harrison,  F.,  101. 

Haskins,  C.  H.,  42,  79. 

Heloise,  35". 

Henry  II,  20  sq.,  132. 

Henry  IV,  29  sq.,  121. 

Henry  Bate  of  Malines,  129. 

Henry  of  Ghent,  73,  86,  130,   144, 

152,  165  sq.,  168,  282. 
Herrad  of  Landsberg,  49. 
Hobbes,  3. 
Horace,  47. 
Hugh  of  Cluny,  30. 
Hugh  II,  of  Lusignan,  221. 
Hugh  of  Noyers,  32. 
Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  1,  40,  49,  52 

sq.,  127,  151,  162. 
Hume,  136. 
Huxley,  203. 

Innocent  III,  33,  44,  103,  121  sqq. 
Innocent  IV,  114,  119,  231. 
Trnerius  of  Bologna,  47,  232. 
Isaac  of  Stella,  42. 
Isidore  of  Seville,  90,  141. 

Jacopo  de  Voragine,  106. 
James  I  (of  Aragon)  107. 
James  of  Viterbo,  73. 
Janet,  P.,  125. 


Johannes  Andreae,  119  sq. 

John  of  La  Rochelle,  74. 

John   of   Salisbury,    1,  42,  48,   52, 

141,   238,   264;    Metalogicus,   57; 

Polycraticus  59  sq.,  220,  239,  249 ; 

state  compared  to  human  body, 

in,  240;  on  tyrannicide,  240. 
John  Scotus  Eriugena,  1,  50. 

Kant,  154. 

Kilwardby,  Robert,  73,  128. 

Krakowski,  299. 

Krebs,  E.,  293. 

Lackland,  John,  101,  250. 

Lamprecht,  30,  37. 

Lanfranc,  44. 

Ivanglois,  72. 

Leibnitz,  11,  202,  208,  210. 

Lippi,  Filippino,  84. 

Little,  A.  G.,  79. 

Locke,  199,  299. 

Louis  VII,  20,  122,  132. 

Louis  IX,  35,  100  sqq.,  222,  260. 

Louis  XIV,  127. 

Luchaire,  A.,  20  sq.,  33,  101,  157, 

261. 
Lully,  Raymond,  6*4,  73,  130,   164. 

Maitland,  F.  W.,  120. 

Male,  E.,  49,  132,  173,  191  sq. 

Mandonnet,  P.,  79,  285,  288. 

Manegold  of  Lautenbach,  220,  263. 

Map,  Walter,  42. 

Marchesi,  79. 

Marius  Victorinus,  47. 

Marvin,  F.  S.,  238. 

Mathew  of  Lorraine,  32. 

Maurice  of  Sully,  33. 

Mendenez  y  Pelayo,  79. 

Mentellini,'l06. 

Mercier,  D.,  181,  267. 

Michael  Scot,  73,  128. 

Michael  of  Corbeil,  51. 

Migne,  26. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  150. 

Minges,  P.,  184. 

Montesquieu,  8. 


312 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Newton,  214, 

Nicholas  of  Autrecourt,  136. 
Nicholas  of  Oresmes,  113. 
Nizolius,  7. 

Odon  of  Tournai,  45. 

Otloh  of  St.  Emmeram,  43,  51. 

Otto  I,  29. 

Otto  III,  43. 

Otto  of  Freising,  43. 

Pascal,  140. 

Peckham,  John,  77. 

Pelzer,  A.,  79,  110,  143. 

Peter  Damien,  51  sq. 

Peter  Lombard,  '44,  52  sq. 

Peter  of  Blois,  42,  51. 

Peter  of  Capua,  44. 

Peter  of  Corbeil,  33. 

Peter  of  Poitiers,  163. 

Peter  of  Spain,  73. 

Peter  of  Tarantaise,  73. 

Peter  the  Venerable,  26,  55,  58. 

Petrus  Petri,  147. 

PfeiflPer,   F.,  291,  294. 

Philip  Augustus,  64,  100  sq.,  107, 

125,  132,  157. 
Philip  the  Fair,  21. 
Philo,  162. 
Plato,  2,  11,  97  sq.,  118,  141,  154, 

211,  278,  280. 
Plutarch,  239. 
Poppo  of  Stavelot,  24. 
Porphyry,  58. 
Porter,  A.  K.,  49. 
Praepositinus  of  Cremona,  4*4. 
Priscian,  47,  93. 
Proclus,  78,  289,  291,  295. 
Ptolemy  of  Lucques,  244,  250. 

Quintilian,  47. 

Rabelais,  155. 
Radulfus  Ardens,  127. 
Ramsay,  P.,  299. 
Rashdall,  H.,  65. 
Raymond  of  Toledo,  81. 
Remi  of  Auxerre,  47. 
Reynaud,  24. 


Rhabanus   Maurus,   90. 
Richard  of  Middleton,  73. 
Richard  of  St.  Victor,  40,  42. 
Rivalta,  Ercole,  174. 
Robert  of  Sorbonne,  161. 
Rocquain,  123  sq.,  126. 
Rose,  79. 
Rudolph  of  Habsburg,  157. 

Sandys,  42. 

Savigny,  230. 

Saintsbury,  37,  176. 

Schneider,  283. 

Seneca,  '47. 

Shakespeare,  176  sq. 

Siger  of  Brabant,  1,  73,  129,  285, 

288. 
Siger  of  Courtrai,  93,  282. 
Simon  of  Bucy,  72. 
Simon  of  Montfort,  157. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  98,  127. 
Stadler,  H.  J.,  283. 
Steinhausen,  37,  43. 
Stephen  Langton,  73. 
Stephen  of  Tournai,  51. 
Sylvester,  II. 

Taine,  97,  198. 

Taylor,  H.  O.,  171,  173. 

Tennyson,  240. 

Theodoric  of  Chartres,  41. 

Thierry  of  Chartres,  45,  48. 

Thierry  of  Freiburg,  1,  73,  290  sqq., 
295. 

Thomas  Aquinas  (St.),  1,  3,  64, 
73,  81  sqq.,  109,  114,  130,  144  sq., 
155,  195,  210,  242,  256,  261,  272, 
sqq.,  278,  282,  285,  and  passim. 
De  Anima,  187,  267;  De  Coelo, 
113;  Contra  Gentiles,  86,  110,  143, 
166,  256;  Ethica  Nichom.,  94, 
193,  226,  234,  245  sq.;  Metaphys- 
ica,  91,  139;  Perihermeneias  182; 
In  Politic,  comm.,  249, 256 ;  de  Re- 
gimine  Principum,  221,  227  sq., 
244  sqq.,  248,  250,  252,  254;  de 
unitate  intellectus,  140,  de  veri- 
tate,  218;  aesthetics  of,  187  sq., 
artes  liberales  and  artes  mechan- 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


313 


icae,  95;  astronomy,  112  sq.,  269; 
on  authority,  142;  and  Meister 
Eckhart,  297;  epistemology,  182 
sqq.,  ethics,  93  sq.,  on  eternity  of 
the  world,  169;  God,  216  sqq., 
law  in,  129,  236,  248  sqq.,  243, 
271  sq.,  and  Leibnitz,  202;  logic, 
93;  and  Monte  Cassino,  44;  on 
music,  168;  on  order,  193;  po- 
ntical  philosophy,  93,  242  sqq., 
theory  of  progress,  366  sqq.,  271 
sq.,  psychology,  187  sq.,  and 
science,  86,  96,  187,  social  philoso- 
phy, 221  sqq.,  on  sovereignty,  244, 
249,  254;  on  the  soul,  212;  on 
substance,  204;  theology  and 
philosophy,  95,  152  sq.,  on  war, 
262;  divisions  of  philosophy,  91; 
theory  of  justice,  247  sqq.,  on 
tyrannicide,  249. 

Thorburn,  W.  M.,  110. 

Traini,  84,  154,  287. 

Trajan,  239. 

Tribbechovius,  155. 


Vincent  of  Beauvais,  74,  90,  106. 
Virgil,  47,  190. 
Vives,  L.,  7. 

Walter  of  Mortagne,  57. 
Walter  of  St.  Victor,  52. 
William  of  Aquitaine,  24. 
William   of   Auvergne,  64,   74,   82, 

143,  282. 
William  of  Auxerre,  74. 
William  of  Champeaux,  40  sq.,  45, 

65. 
William  of  Conches,  41. 
William  of  Meliton,  73. 
William  of  Mende,  106,  158,  190. 
William    of    Moerbeke,    220,    251, 

290. 
William  of  Occam,   1,  3,   73,   110, 

282. 
William  of  St.  Amour,  74. 
William  the  Conqueror,  21. 
Witelo,  74,  290  sq.,  295. 
Wolff,  91. 
Wustenfeld,  F.,  79. 


Ueberweg-Baumgartner,  150,  291. 
Ulric  of  Strasburg,  73,  290  sq.,  295. 
Urban,  II,  28. 

Vacandart,  32. 
Vacant,  79. 


Ximines,  Rodriguez  (Cardinal),  78, 

81. 

Zeiller,  261. 
Zurbaran,  84. 


ttt;:JCV) 


